The Dark Knight and a Steel Hope
by ThePuddleJumper
Summary: Two vigilantes with different approaches to justice struggle against their enemies and each other as they try to find common ground.-This is an AU crossover of the Dark Knight trilogy and Smallville, starting with events from Batman Begins and featuring a female Clark Kent. Changes will be made to the plots of the films and series to fit this story. Eventual Bruce Wayne/fem!Clark.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note:**_ This story is a crossover of WB's/CW's series Smallville and Christopher Nolan's Dark Knight trilogy (and potentially other franchises within the DC Comics universe). This story also features a fem!Clark.

Liberties have been taken with some characters, locations, and the timing of certain events in the show and films in order to accommodate the plot of this story. I do not own the rights to anything from the DC universe.

Thank you for reading!

* * *

Claire adjusted her dress as she made her way back down the hallway toward the ballroom of Gotham's Ritz Hotel.

She did a quick once-over in a mirror just outside the entrance. In that ballroom, she had to be Claire Kent—mild-mannered reporter, and she had to look the part. Her black hair was still pulled back in a tight, simple bun, her dark-rimmed glasses needed to be pushed higher up her nose, and her posture had to be fixed.

She was standing up too straight at that moment. Claire Kent was always supposed to cower a bit when she stood and walked, doing what she could to avoid drawing attention to herself. Her dress managed to help with that. It was a long, dark blue gown with a boatneck cut and capped sleeves. It showed no skin but her arms, and it wasn't so tight that it accentuated her curves. She had a figure, but the dress did a good job of hiding it.

And hiding was an important part of Claire's life, because she was more than just Claire Kent.

Claire was also a super-powered alien who used her abilities to try to help people—but the public didn't know that. They knew that someone dressed in black was speeding around Metropolis saving people from harm. They called that someone "the Blur." They didn't know that it was Claire—they didn't even know that the Blur was female—and Claire liked to keep it that way.

Her adoptive parents Jonathan and Martha Kent knew her secret, along with a select few others, but she couldn't risk letting anyone else find out about her. She realized that during a few close calls in high school. After that, she decided to take on the persona of nerdy and meek Claire Kent in her everyday life. The more bumbling and awkward Claire seemed, the less likely people would question what she really was.

And somehow, the fiction worked. After college, Claire had found herself a career at the Daily Planet to fill her time when she wasn't off being the Blur. Her childhood friend Chloe Sullivan had suggested that Claire pursue journalism. Chloe knew Claire's true identity and had thought working in that field would help Claire determine where the Blur's skills might be needed. As usual, Chloe had been right. Working for the Planet had helped Claire pick the battles she fought as the Blur, and it also helped her in maintaining her cover. If she had to run off and assist someone as the Blur, she could just tell her boss that she had to leave to track down a lead.

Thankfully, her boss was supportive and not too difficult to convince. It didn't hurt that Chloe had also accepted a position at the Planet and was willing to help cover for Claire. Chloe was one of Claire's best allies. Not only did she help in concealing Claire's identity, but she also kept an ear out for criminal activity that the Blur should deal with.

Tonight, for example, Chloe was keeping Claire apprised of any incidents that needed the Blur's attention while Claire was in Gotham with her father for a charity event. Jonathan Kent was running for an election within the state, and his opponent Lex Luthor was apparently attending the party. When Jonathan's campaign manager had learned of this, he recommended that Jonathan go to the event as well. Jonathan wasn't opposed to going, but his goal wasn't to upstage Lex. Jonathan actually supported the charity and wanted to vocalize his appreciation for the work they did.

Claire always admired her father and his honorable motives, but she didn't accompany him to support his actions or his campaign. In truth, Gotham had one of the worst crime rates in the nation—despite the efforts of a new vigilante in town—and Claire wasn't going to let her father walk around this city alone.

But just because Claire was spending the evening in Gotham, it didn't mean that the Blur could have a night off from fighting crime in Metropolis. Once Claire ensured that her father was safely inside the hotel's ballroom, she made several discreet exits through side doors and alleyways. As soon as Claire was outside, she would check the calls and texts she'd received from Chloe, change into her Blur clothing, and head straight for the crime scenes.

She'd already managed to stop two armed robberies and a jewelry heist that night, and she thought it was perhaps time to stay and visit with her father for a bit. She didn't want her repeated disappearances arousing anyone's suspicions.

Claire entered the ballroom and quickly distinguished her father's voice from the rest of the crowd. He was on the far side of the room, and Claire began to make her way toward him when a familiar face blocked her path.

"Claire," Lex said, as he moved in closer—much closer than Claire would like. "I haven't had a chance to speak to you all night."

"Well, I'm sure there are much more interesting people here than me that you could speak to, Lex," Claire replied, trying to sound as nervous as possible. In all honesty, the man did make her nervous. She might be nearly indestructible, but Claire knew that Lex was dangerous to her. On several occasions, he had come close to discovering her secret, and at one point, she'd nearly told him. Over time, though, Claire saw the man that Lex truly was, and she was grateful she hadn't revealed her identity to him. If he knew that she was the Blur, Lex would no doubt try to use her for his own gains.

"If you'll excuse me…" Claire mumbled as she tried to move around Lex, but he caught her arm before she could go past him.

"Hold on, Claire," Lex said in a voice that was somehow both soft and sinister. "I just wanted to have a chat…for old times' sake."

Claire knew she could break free from his grip—she could even break his whole arm without much effort. Sadly though, such an action would only solve one of her problems—and invite several new ones.

"Look, Lex," Claire began, "I'm only here to spend the evening with my father. I'm not looking for a fight."

"I'm not either, Claire," Lex said, slowly rubbing his thumb across her forearm. "You know how I hate this rift between us…and between your parents and I. This election is complicating things, but I want nothing more than for you and I to be friends again."

"Sorry if I find that difficult to believe, Lex," Claire replied.

"You should believe it, Claire," Lex asserted. "You sh—"

"Lex!" a man interrupted as he approached them. The newcomer had dark brown hair and blue eyes, and his suit suggested wealth. Claire thought he looked familiar, but she couldn't place him. He continued speaking to Lex, smiling as he said, "It's been awhile, but I see you're still having to use force to keep a woman in your company."

"Bruce," Lex responded, tightening his grip on Claire. "I guess your little disappearing act didn't last long enough. You're interrupting a private conversation, so why don't you just go back to wherever you were hiding the last few years?"

"Come now, Lex, I can't just leave. My name's on the charity. Speaking of, " the man said, turning his attention—and charm—to Claire. "How rude of me—I didn't introduce myself. I'm Bruce Wayne."

Bruce extended his hand to Claire, and the action seemed to make Lex realize that he was still holding Claire's arm. His grip loosened, and Claire managed to free herself.

"I'm Claire Kent," she said, as she shook the offered hand.

"Kent?" Bruce repeated. "So, Lex, you're not just harassing any woman. You're harassing a family member of the competition. Seems low—even for you."

"I don't need to explain myself to you, Bruce," Lex stated. "So if you'll just—"

"You're absolutely right, Lex," Bruce replied, raising one hand to indicate that Lex should stop speaking and keeping Claire's hand enclosed in the other. "I don't need an explanation, and I doubt that Miss Kent needs one either. I just need to know if Miss Kent would care to dance."

Bruce's gaze fixed on Claire, and she couldn't help but stare back at him. The man was certainly handsome, and somehow he managed to put Lex on edge. Those were positive traits from Claire's perspective, but she still didn't know what to think of him. She'd heard of the mysterious billionaire Bruce Wayne—the poor soul who'd survived childhood tragedies, the spoiled youth with a fortune but no idea what to do with it, and most recently, the aimless wanderer with no regard for his life or the lives of others.

Claire knew that billionaires could be trouble, especially with the secrets she had to keep, and Lex had given her all the proof she could ever need of that fact. Lex had been desperate to get the truth from her since the day they'd first met, and he'd used his nearly limitless resources in trying to obtain it.

Considering Bruce's offer now, though, Claire didn't see the harm in accepting. It would provide her with a quick escape from Lex, and she doubted that Bruce would cause her any real trouble after only one dance. No matter what parts of his reputation were true, she felt that simple, country girl Claire Kent wouldn't hold a billionaire's attention—so long as she could keep up the act.

"I…uh," Claire stuttered. "I'm afraid I'm not really good at dancing."

"Don't worry," Bruce replied, warmly. "I won't let you fall."

"Okay then…I guess," Claire answered, pushing up her glasses with her free hand and allowing Bruce to continue holding the other.

"Great," Bruce said, his smile broadening. He began to lead Claire to the dance floor, when Lex came up behind them.

"This isn't over, Claire," he stated, somewhat menacingly.

"It is now," Bruce said, stopping to look back at Lex before pulling Claire into his arms. He quickly guided them into the middle of the crowd, moving them further and further away from Lex.

"You're not bad at this," Bruce stated after a few turns, and Claire managed to blush and stumble a bit in reply. "Well," he corrected, "I guess I should say you're not _too bad_ at this."

Claire didn't look him in the eye as she said, "Well, I did say I wasn't good at dancing."

"I suppose you did," he said before adding, "and you're also not good at avoiding fights."

"What do you mean?" Claire asked quickly.

"Lex," Bruce said, motioning his head back to where they had met. "Your little back-and-forth earlier."

"I wasn't trying to start a fight."

"Knowing Lex as long as I have, I believe you," Bruce replied. "But still, you should be more careful. Going anywhere near Lex is asking for trouble."

"I didn't mean to run into Lex," Claire answered. "I was looking for my father, and I didn't see Lex standing there."

"Really?" Bruce asked, teasingly. "With that head, you'd think he'd be hard to miss."

"He didn't ask to be bald," Claire replied without thinking. She'd wanted to keep any conversation with Bruce Wayne as short and sweet as possible, but she knew she'd just made a misstep. Bruce had managed to hit a sore spot when he mentioned Lex's baldness. Claire knew that Lex had lost his hair during the meteor shower that had marked her arrival on Earth, and Claire felt some level of guilt for Lex's baldness—as she did for every suffering of the meteor-afflicted.

Claire looked at Bruce to see what damage she'd done, and she could tell that the mirth and playfulness had left the man's eyes.

"I…I just meant that…um…you can't judge a guy based on what happened to him in some horrible childhood incident," Claire stammered, fixing her eyes on a button on Bruce's shirt. "Lex has had a rough life," she added.

"He's not the only one," Bruce replied somberly.

It took Claire less than a second to realize how much of an idiot she'd been with her statement. _Horrible childhood incident?_ She couldn't believe she'd just said that to a man who'd witnessed his parents being murdered when he was a boy.

She needed to work on speaking—or better still, on keeping her mouth shut.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't…I was out of line just then."

"No, Miss Kent," Bruce said. "You were just letting me know that I was being out of line."

"What?" Claire questioned.

"You reminded me that if I'm going to insult Lex, I shouldn't go for the cheap shots. There are a million other critical comments I could make about Lex, so let me pick one of them," Bruce answered. "Perhaps something on his shady business arrangements? Or how about the mistreatment of his employees? Or my new favorite—that he enjoys picking on the daughter of his competitor?"

"I guess any of those would work," Claire replied quietly.

"So what was he saying to you?" Bruce asked. "I hope he wasn't trying to make you persuade your father to pull out of the race."

"No," Claire answered, deciding to keep her responses brief. "We were talking about something else."

"Something other than the election? Well now, I'm intrigued. What were you two discussing?"

Claire hesitated for a moment. This was exactly what she didn't want happening. Intriguing Bruce Wayne would only bring her trouble—Claire was certain of it. She had intrigued Lex when she first met him years ago to the point that he was still suspicious of her. Claire needed a good answer for Bruce

She thought back to the advice that Chloe had given her on coming up with a good cover story. The first step was always to start with the truth and then go from there.

"We were talking about the past," Claire replied. "My family has known Lex for a while now, and he didn't used to have this animosity toward us…but I guess…well, things change."

"Being on opposite sides of an election will do that to people," Bruce said. "It's funny, though. From what I've heard during this race, I would've thought your family wouldn't run in the same circles as Lex, but you say you've known him for some time now?"

"Yes," Claire answered. "My family's farm is in a town called Smallville. Luthorcorp has a plant there, and Lex was put in charge of it briefly. My family met him then."

"So let me get this straight," Bruce began. "While Lex was out in this Smallhill—"

"Smallville," Claire corrected, before returning her gaze to Bruce's button and trying to will herself to stay quiet.

"Smallville," Bruce repeated. "So while he was there, he decided to mingle with the locals and get to know the farmers? That doesn't seem like Lex to me."

"Well, um…," Claire uttered. She didn't know what to tell him. Of course she could tell him the real reason why playboy Lex Luthor had bothered to become acquainted with the Kent family—that, as a teenager, Claire had retrieved Lex from a river that he had driven his car into, saving the man's life that afternoon. But that was exactly the kind of story Claire was determined not to share. It was the kind of story that would only bring her trouble.

So Claire kept quiet. In a way, she thought it might work out for her. Simple Claire Kent _should_ find it difficult to carry on a conversation with someone as rich and famous as Bruce Wayne.

"But maybe you're right," Bruce said, breaking the awkward silence.

"What?" Claire asked, looking at her dance partner's face again and not knowing what he was trying to say.

"Things change," Bruce answered. "Maybe the Lex you knew in Smallville wasn't the one I knew as a kid or the one we just ran into tonight. People can change over time—sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. But no matter what, you should be careful around him."

Bruce's tone was surprisingly serious, but suddenly the song ended and another began, and just like that, a playful grin returned to Bruce's face. He released her hand finally, but the hand he'd had on her waist remained in contact with her. It slid to her back as Bruce said, "Let me see you to your father."

Claire puzzled over the man's behavior as she let him guide her across the room. He was a mystery to her. One minute he seemed like a stuck-up rich boy, and the next he sounded like a heart-broken orphan. And his eyes—at times, they seemed thoughtful and honest, but then they would change, and a superficial glaze seemed to cover them.

Claire also didn't know what Bruce's concern with Lex was. She'd have to look into any connections or disputes between Luthorcorp and Wayne Enterprises to see if that could offer an explanation, but she doubted it. From what she knew about Bruce, he'd only just arrived home after years abroad, and he hadn't shown any real interest in his family's company.

If it wasn't business-related, Claire wondered if it might be some sort of rivalry from their youth. Bruce and Lex had obviously known each other for years. Perhaps some old grudge between them caused them to still dislike each other—and perhaps it made Bruce believe that he should warn people about dealing with Lex.

Before Claire could contemplate Bruce any further, they found themselves approaching her father and several other people, having what appeared to be a heated discussion.

"He's a menace!" one man said. He was older than her father and had greying hair and a stern face. "They're all menaces! They should each get their own padded cell in Arkham as far as I'm concerned."

"Who are we talking about?" Claire quietly asked her father as she went to stand beside him.

"Gotham's new vigilante—the Batman," Jonathan replied, his voice sounding tired. "And vigilantes in general."

"Then clearly you haven't seen the good that these people are doing," another voice said in response to the older man's comments. This voice Claire knew well. It belonged to the Daily Planet's star reporter Louis Lane. He was there to cover the event, including the political candidates' attendance there. It was for that reason that Claire couldn't work on the story herself. Her editor didn't want her covering anything to do with the election because he didn't want the Planet to seem partial to any particular candidate, and having the name Kent in a byline wouldn't help with that.

So Claire stayed on the sidelines at the Planet during this election season, but she was fine with that. It left more time for the Blur to be helping people.

"The Blur has been credited with saving countless lives in Metropolis," Louis continued. "And the Batman? He just helped put away one of Gotham's most notorious criminals."

"And how many times has the Blur stuck around and actually followed the judicial process that this country was founded on?" the other man questioned, and Claire felt a stab of shame at his words. She hated having to work in the shadows, staying in a place only long enough to hand criminals over to authorities but not remaining to make sure that justice was done. She wondered how many criminals would walk just because the Blur couldn't appear in court to testify against them. "And the Batman? He likes putting people in the hospital more than he likes seeing them behind bars. Why else would the police set up a task force to bring him in?"

"Maybe because they're jealous," Louis replied quickly. He'd always been an advocate of the Blur, writing articles arguing that Metropolis' vigilante was a hero, and Claire had always appreciated it. She could never show that appreciation, though—at least not as Claire Kent—but as the Blur, she'd given Louis some of his biggest stories.

Seeing that Louis wasn't backing down, the older man looked for someone else in the group to support his view. "Bruce," the man said. "Help me out here. What do you think of this Batman character?"

"Well," Bruce began, with the earnestness once again missing from his voice and eyes. "A guy who dresses up like a bat clearly has issues."

"And I would say the same thing about the Blur and any other vigilante out there," Lex said as he approached the group, standing next to the older man. "Anyone who thinks that they can take the law into their own hands has to be mentally unstable."

"I'm glad to hear others share my convictions, Mr. Luthor," the man said, offering his hand to shake Lex's.

"I believe any sane person should share your convictions, Mr. Earle," Lex replied, returning the handshake. He then turned to Louis before adding, "Emphasis on sane."

"That's funny, Luthor," Louis said. "Because I would've said that only criminals with something to hide—something that they're worried someone like the Blur or the Batman might find about—would share those convictions. Do you have something to hide, Luthor?"

"I have nothing to hide," Lex answered. "It's the Blur and this bat-guy that are hiding. They're breaking the law. They should come forward, face punishment for their crimes, and leave law enforcement to the professionals. Or do any of you disagree? Mr. Kent," Lex stated, turning his attention to Claire's father. "What do think of these vigilantes?"

"I don't agree with vigilantism, Lex," Jonathan replied. "And I certainly can't agree with the violence employed by this Batman. Our legal system is in place to protect people—their rights, their safety—and no one should disrupt that system."

Louis scoffed, but Claire wasn't surprised by her father's answer. Jonathan knew that Claire was the Blur, and he also knew how important it was to keep her alternate identity a secret. Speaking out against the Blur was just one more way of doing that.

The conversation continued, but Bruce quickly excused himself. Claire couldn't help but hear his cell phone vibrate just before he left, and for some reason, she let her hearing follow his voice.

"Alfred," Bruce said as he answered.

" _Sorry to disturb, sir,_ " the voice on the other end replied in a thick British accent. " _But you'll want to know about this. I just saw a suspicious vehicle pull into the alleyway behind the hotel. A number of men got out of it, and they appeared to be armed. I've phoned the police..._ "

The voice continued speaking, but Claire turned her ears elsewhere. She listened beyond the ballroom to the surrounding hallways. It didn't take long to find them. There were multiple male voices down one corridor discussing how to make their way into the room. Claire could then hear the mechanical clicks she'd learned to associate with guns.

She knew that a normal gun couldn't hurt her, but there were over one hundred people in the ballroom that weren't so impervious to bullets, including her father. She needed to do something to protect them.

"Dad," she said calmly. "Can I speak to you for a moment?"

Their group had become embroiled in another debate, and Louis was being particularly argumentative at that moment, so fortunately, no one noticed the Kents moving to a quieter spot.

"What's wrong, Claire?" Jonathan asked. After years of raising her and helping her to cope with her abilities, Jonathan knew how to read Claire, and he could tell when there was trouble.

"There are armed men in the hotel, and they're on their way here," she said quietly. "I need to take care of them, and you need to stay safe."

"Wait," Jonathan said, placing his hand on Claire's shoulder. "If there's a sighting of the Blur in Gotham while you're in Gotham, you don't think that might be a problem? Lex is suspicious enough of you as it is."

"What should I do? Stand back and let these guys hurt people?" Claire replied.

"No," Jonathan answered with a conflicted look in his eyes. "Aren't there any alternatives?"

"The cops have been called, but I don't hear them anywhere nearby. The gunmen will be in the ballroom before they get here. I need to go," Claire stated.

"Fine, but just…" Jonathan hesitated before adding, "Grab a black tablecloth or sheet or something and tie it around your neck. They say that Batman wears a cape—make them think it was Batman who stopped these men tonight, not the Blur."

Claire was about to speed away when doors around the room were kicked open. Under normal circumstances, she would still make a run for it. In a crowd this size, no one would notice if Claire disappeared through a door or window—especially not at the speeds that she could move and with the low profile she usually kept. Tonight was different, though. It seemed the second these armed and masked men walked in the room, one of them pointed in her direction and shouted, "There!"

As two of the gunmen approached, Claire realized they hadn't been pointing at her. They were looking at her father. Two other men grabbed Lex and pulled him closer to where Claire and Jonathan stood. The remaining gunmen moved through the crowd, filling bags with jewelry and money taken from the attendees and creating a sense of panic throughout the room.

Lex was shoved next to her father, and one of the gunmen stepped forward. "Well look what we have here. It's the men of the hour, boys."

Claire recognized the voice. It had given most of the orders to the men on their way through the hotel. She assumed that he was the ringleader behind this.

"Tell me," the man said to her father and Lex. "Are you gentlemen feeling lucky tonight? Because I'm certainly feeling lucky. You see, I get to kill two of the most annoying men I know tonight."

Claire knew she could stop this. She could have all the men disarmed before one shot could be fired—but it would mean revealing to the world that Claire Kent and the Blur were the same person. Her life as she knew it would be over, and the lives of her family and friends would never be the same.

But she couldn't let her father die. She couldn't let anyone die or suffer here tonight just because she was afraid to reveal her identity, but she had to try one more option before giving up her life as Claire Kent.

She had to try to save the day—as Claire Kent.

Claire stepped in between the ringleader and her father. She faced the man as she said, "You don't want to do that."

"Oh really?" the man replied with surprise in his tone. "Why don't I want to do this, doll?"

"Well," Claire began, forcing herself to tremble slightly and pushing her glasses up her nose as she spoke. "You don't want to face the consequences of doing something like this. Right now, you're just looking at being sentenced for armed robbery and assault. The sentencing will be much worse, though, if you allow things to escalate from here."

"That's only if I get caught," the ringleader said, raising his gun and pointing it right at Claire. "Now, sweetheart, I've got no problem shooting my way through you to shoot the old man behind you, but if you don't want to be the first to die, I suggest you move now."

"Claire," her father said from behind her, pleadingly. He wanted her to move; he wanted her to keep her secret safe, but she couldn't stand by and let this happen. As soon as the first bullet hit her, she would grab the gun from the ringleader and then disarm the others.

Claire could hear the man's finger beginning to squeeze the trigger. She expected to hear the bullet leaving the chamber next, but another sound—a sound she didn't recognize—interrupted everything. The gun had still fired, but the bullet went nowhere near its intended target, and protruding from the ringleader's hand was a piece of metal shaped like a bat.


	2. Chapter 2

The room erupted into chaos.

After the Batman stopped the ringleader's first shot, he proceeded to throw other small devices around the room. Once they connected with the floor, the objects released a thick fog into the air, impairing most people's vision. Claire wasn't like most people, though. She could still see what was going on in the room.

The Batman was moving quickly among the panicked guests, making his way to the gunmen who had been stealing from the crowd. The men were going down fast, and Claire could tell that the Batman was just knocking them unconscious, not killing them.

"What do we do, boss?" one of the men asked. He was standing right next to Lex, with his gun still pointed at the billionaire.

"We get the hell out of here," the ringleader replied, as he pulled the piece of metal out of his hand and retrieved his gun. He was close to Claire, and she could tell that he could still see her through the fog. Swiftly, he wrapped his uninjured arm around her chest and arms and pulled her towards him so that her back was pressed against his front. He pushed his gun into her side as he said, "And you're coming with us, sweetheart."

"Claire!" her father shouted. A gunman near her father responded to the yell, raising his gun toward Jonathan's torso.

Claire moved to break free and stop what was happening, but the ringleader beat her to it. "Hold up," he ordered. "We'll get out of this place easier with more hostages. We're taking all three of them."

The other man didn't lower his gun, but another of their group moved behind her father and bound his hands. He then went to Lex and repeated the process. "Her too, boss?" he asked, holding out a zip tie.

"I got her," the ringleader answered, his arm tightening around Claire. He looked back at the room behind them. People were screaming, and Claire could hear their hearts hammering. She could also make out another sound—a strong fist colliding with flesh—and then there was a pained grunt. Claire saw the Batman disarm the man he was fighting, and the gun slid across the floor, stopping near Claire and her captor.

The ringleader tensed at the sight of the weapon, knowing that it meant another of his men had been taken down. He turned away from the crowd and motioned toward a nearby exit. "The stairwell! Now!" he shouted.

They made it through the door, with Lex and two of the gunmen in the lead followed by her father and another of the men. Claire and the ringleader brought up the rear of the group. "We go up," he yelled. "Luthor has his chopper on the roof!"

"Wait," Lex said, turning back toward the group and stopping their climb. "Just take me. Let them go. You'll get whatever you want with me as your hostage."

"And I'll get more with them," the ringleader replied menacingly, moving his gun to the side of Claire's head. "People have a certain sympathy for female hostages…and old men," he added, motioning toward Jonathan with the gun. The weapon went back to Claire's side, as the man continued, "Most people would probably pay to see me kill you, Luthor. But you're lucky your company'll pay a pretty penny for you. Now keep moving!"

With a shove from the men behind him, Lex turned around and headed up the stairs.

Claire could now hear the sirens from police cars. They were only a few blocks away, but Claire knew the police wouldn't make it inside the building before their group had reached the top of the stairwell. If they boarded that helicopter, things could be much more difficult. Right now, Claire only had four men to deal with in a confined space. Escaping from a helicopter or wherever these men wanted to go without revealing her abilities might not be so easy.

Lex was struggling against his captors on the stairs ahead. He wasn't going quietly. It seemed to Claire that he was trying to stall them—slowing down their progress until the police or the Batman could help them. It wasn't working, though. The men were stronger than Lex, and they were determined. And their leader wasn't going to put up with Lex's behavior.

"Knock him out and carry him if he keeps causing trouble," the leader shouted.

Claire assessed the space around her. Lights along two of the walls illuminated the stairwell. The men would be able to see any attempt that she made to stop them, and the leader would definitely notice her actions given how tightly he held her. But Lex's protests were distracting him—Claire could tell. She needed to act quickly.

Claire could see wires behind the walls connecting the light fixtures on each level. If she could hit the wiring with her heat vision, she thought she might be able to deactivate the lights, which might give her enough cover to free her father and Lex.

One of the men holding Lex was reaching for his gun. From the way he gripped the weapon, Claire could tell he meant to use it to knock Lex unconscious, and the billionaire seemed to perceive this as well. He tried to shove the gunman away with his shoulder, and in the process, he turned himself and his captors away from Claire. Fortunately, the leader also seemed to be completely focused on the fight now.

With no eyes on her, Claire looked at the light on the level right beneath Lex. She released a burst of her heat vision and melted through the fixture to the circuitry underneath. Suddenly, all the lights on that side of the stairwell went dark, and the desired effect was achieved. Everyone turned their attention toward that wall to see if they could identify the cause of the outage, while Claire's gaze went in the opposite direction. She took out the lights on the other wall, and the entire stairwell was shrouded in darkness.

Claire could still see, though, and she knew the job wasn't finished. She'd disoriented the gunmen by taking away their vision, but she needed to make sure they couldn't cause any more trouble. Using her super speed, she knocked out each of the men, starting with the man who held her.

By the time the emergency lighting kicked in, all four gunmen were down, and Claire was once again standing on the stairs behind her father.

Lex looked around in disbelief. He saw the men he'd struggled against knocked out on the floor, and then he stared at Claire.

"What happened?" Lex questioned. He looked at Claire like he expected her to have the answer—or for her to be the answer. His suspicions of her were still apparent.

Claire's meek persona returned. Her mouth didn't form words; she just kept a stunned look upon her face.

Her father spoke up first. "I think it was the Batman. I saw something moving in the darkness."

It was a lie. Claire and Jonathan both knew it, and Lex didn't seem to be buying it.

"It was…" Claire began, readying herself to support her father's story. She knew how to tell lies; she was used to telling them. They were a part of her life.

And this lie made sense. They were in Gotham, and the Batman was in the building with them. The Batman was known for taking out bad guys silently and always keeping to the shadows. And it wasn't as if he was going to argue about saving them. The Batman wouldn't be making a report to the police later to let them know which of the gunmen he had taken down. These four would just be added to the list.

The lie was forming on Claire's lips. She could say she felt a figure brush past her, that there seemed to be fabric swaying—perhaps his cape? She could tell this story—she just had to make Lex believe it.

But a noise from above distracted Claire. She looked up, as did her father and Lex.

There was a dark figure several levels above them—just a silhouette against the pale emergency lighting. He turned swiftly, and it was clear that a black cape billowed around him.

"…The Batman," Claire whispered.

* * *

By the end of the evening, everyone believed that the Batman had saved Lex Luthor and the Kents in the stairwell.

Claire and Jonathan both told the police about the lights going out and some sort of dark presence moving around them, bringing down the gunmen. Even Lex couldn't deny the last part of their story. He had seen the Batman at the top of the stairwell, just as Claire and Jonathan had.

It was a nearly seamless cover for Claire. With Gotham's vigilante spotted at the scene, there was no reason for anyone to be suspicious of her. Even Lex had dropped his accusatory stance against Claire the minute he'd seen the Batman.

It was practically perfect—except for one flaw.

The Batman.

Claire couldn't help but be bothered by it. The Batman knew he hadn't saved them; he had to know that something else happened in that stairwell. The question was whether or not it mattered to him.

* * *

From the backseat of his Rolls Royce, Bruce watched the Kents step into their truck. He'd been watching them all night, in fact. Rumors had reached him that Lex Luthor was tired of how close this election was becoming and that he might use the charity event in Gotham to his advantage.

Crime was still running rampant in this city, despite Bruce's best efforts, and it wouldn't be hard for a man as rich as Lex to hire people to take care of Jonathan Kent while he was in town. They even did a good job making it look convincing. Having them grab Lex too was a smart move. It made him seem more like a victim, instead of the mastermind behind this whole scheme.

Bruce doubted, though, that the police would be able to gather this information from the gunmen they'd apprehended. He knew that Lex would've paid for the men's silence along with their services tonight. If he wanted to bring down Lex, Bruce would have to find another way.

One option was readily available to him. The driver of the van that had brought the gunmen to the hotel had apparently taken off as soon as he'd heard sirens approaching. Bruce hadn't bothered to disable the vehicle when he'd gone outside to retrieve his batsuit from his car. His priority had been to help the people in the ballroom. And he'd thought he would have had time to grab the driver on his way out.

Bruce had been mistaken about that. He hadn't anticipated how long it would take to bring down all the gunmen in the hotel, and the driver had managed to escape.

The escape wasn't clean, though, as Bruce's butler and closest confidant Alfred Pennyworth had been keeping an eye on the situation. Alfred was a meticulous man who paid attention to detail, and he'd made a note of everything distinctive about the van. He hadn't shared this information with the police—many of whom were just as depraved as the criminals of Gotham, but instead, Alfred gave the full description to Bruce. Alfred had made it clear that he wasn't happy about Bruce spending his nights as a vigilante, but Alfred still recognized that Bruce was capable and trying to do good for his city.

Bruce had enough information to begin tracking down the van, and once he'd found it, Bruce knew that he could obtain the truth about Lex—or at least a new lead—from the man who'd fled.

It was tempting to pursue that path—to bring Lex Luthor to justice. Unfortunately, Lex wasn't Bruce's biggest concern at the moment. He needed to focus on ending the crime and corruption within his own city before moving on to Metropolis' villains.

Besides, after tonight, Bruce had reason to believe that someone else might already be keeping an eye on Lex's activities.

That someone had brought down the gunmen in the stairwell—singlehandedly and fast enough to avoid detection. Bruce hadn't caught a glimpse of him, and Lex and the Kents had just assumed that the Batman had helped them. The mysterious savior had been both swift and careful. No harm had come to the hostages, and the criminals had merely been knocked out—not killed.

Given the evidence, Bruce could only assume that the unknown hero tonight had been the Blur, who was known for using uncanny speed and strength during rescues. Yet despite the seemingly good intentions of Metropolis' vigilante, the abilities that the Blur possessed didn't sit well with Bruce. A man shouldn't have that kind of power without someone else being able to keep him in check.

"Shall we return home now, sir?" Alfred asked from the driver's seat. The words from his ever-loyal butler returned Bruce to the present just in time to watch the Kents drive away. Although the events of the evening bothered Bruce, he knew that Lex would likely stay away from Jonathan Kent for the time being. Another assassination attempt before the election would draw attention, and Lex couldn't afford to have his reputation questioned any further.

And Bruce had his own priorities to deal with in Gotham. The complications from Metropolis and its super-powered vigilante would have to wait.


	3. Chapter 3

Claire didn't sleep that night.

So many things had gone wrong in the last few hours that she felt an urgent need to start setting them right.

Claire went back to Smallville with her father, and after she made sure that the farm was secure, she settled herself into the barn's loft with her laptop and began researching everything that had happened.

First, she looked into the information that Gotham's police had gathered related to the incident. Chloe had gained access to the police report and had emailed a copy to Claire. Apparently, one of the men involved in the attack had managed to evade capture by the authorities—and the Batman. The driver of the van that the gunmen had travelled in must have noticed that things weren't going according to their plan. Before the police had arrived, he'd started up the vehicle and fled the scene. So far, there weren't any leads to help track him down.

The criminals that the police actually had in custody weren't saying much. They were claiming that their only objective had been to rob the wealthy attendees at the charity event, but Claire wasn't buying it.

After looking back on what had occurred, Claire couldn't ignore the fact that some of the gunmen had gone after her father and Lex immediately, rather than grabbing more jewelry and wallets from around the room. If money was their primary goal, why did they go after her father? Lex was perhaps more understandable—he was a billionaire. Anyone who kidnapped him could expect to receive a decent ransom. Her father wasn't a billionaire, though, and they'd still gone for him first.

Claire thought that they could have been politically motivated. Perhaps they wanted to kidnap the only candidates in the upcoming election to send some sort of message? But she soon struck down that idea as well. If their purpose last night was to express a particular point, Claire believed that they would have been more vocal about it—even after their arrest.

According to the police report, though, the men weren't saying anything of the kind. They never mentioned targeting her father or Lex during questioning. The ringleader had said that he'd only grabbed them because he thought they would be high profile hostages who would make it easier for him to escape.

The details in the report didn't sit right with Claire. She hated to think that someone might have hired these men to purposefully attack her father, but if that were truly the case, she needed to know who was behind this and stop them from causing any further harm.

If the gunmen hadn't gone after Lex as well, he would have been Claire's most likely suspect. He stood to gain a much easier election campaign if her father were out of the picture. She just didn't know if Lex was capable of something so heinous. Claire knew that Lex was a corrupt businessman, but she didn't think that meant that he would use his wealth and resources to kidnap and possibly even kill her father. Jonathan Kent certainly wasn't best friends with Lex; in fact, her father had been distrustful of Lex since the day they'd met. In Jonathan's defense, though, Lex had just hit Claire with his car that day. It seemed understandable that her father would be upset with the man behind that.

Yet even though her father wasn't close to Lex, he was never cruel to the younger man. Jonathan had even provided Lex with a place to stay when Lex's father Lionel had disowned him. Lex had become friendly with the Kents at that time, but soon enough things had fallen apart between them, and Lex had returned to his life of privilege.

The main problem between Lex and the Kents was that he'd always been too curious about Claire—how she'd saved his life and how she would continually provide flimsy excuses for her mysterious behavior. He'd always demanded answers that she could never give, and it strained their relationship to the point where they became nothing more than bitter toward one another.

Despite that, though, Claire still wasn't certain that Lex could be behind the attack. He might be angry with her for keeping secrets and with her father for doing well in the election polls, but did that really mean he would resort to these tactics?

The police report wasn't giving Claire the answers she needed, so she was just going to have to investigate this on her own.

Claire knew she would have trouble obtaining information from the men that were already behind bars, so she thought she should try to locate the man who'd escaped. He must be hiding out somewhere, but Gotham's police force didn't offer many clues. Their report often focused on the appearance of the Batman at the scene and the pressing need to stop the masked vigilante, rather than on the gunman that they'd failed to apprehend.

In the morning, Claire planned to work with Chloe to determine if the arrested men had any known associates who might be aiding the runaway. If that didn't help with her investigation, Claire considered returning to the scene. The roads surrounding the hotel were highly used thoroughfares, so it might not be easy to distinguish the tracks of the getaway van from those of other vehicles, but she could at least give it a try.

If that still didn't provide results, Claire had one other option to pursue—Bruce Wayne's butler. She had heard the man through Bruce's cell phone saying that he'd seen the gunmen entering the hotel, and she wondered if he'd spotted anything else. The police had just recorded basic information from him—that his name was Alfred Pennyworth, that he'd been waiting in a car outside the hotel to drive his employer home, and that he'd called the police as soon as he'd seen the armed men.

Mr. Pennyworth had told them that he couldn't offer more details than that. The events had been too startling for him to think straight or retain any more useful information.

Claire wondered about that, though. It had been hours since the incident—perhaps everything had calmed down enough that Mr. Pennyworth might be able to recollect something else. The make or model of the vehicle or what direction it had come from or fled to could all be useful details in tracking down the missing man.

If she was going to visit Gotham anyway, Claire didn't think it would hurt to have a conversation with the butler.

* * *

Chloe had managed to acquire a few names for Claire to look into, but Claire knew that this search wasn't going to be an easy task.

Gotham wasn't Metropolis. It wasn't as if she could go to a few of her sources around town as Claire Kent and start asking questions. Small-town girl Claire Kent would look like an easy target in most of the establishments in Gotham where she could hope to find out about the criminals from last night.

And she couldn't go around as the Blur either. It wasn't guaranteed that she could find what she was looking for in that city by using her alternate identity, and a sighting of the Blur in Gotham might be more trouble than it was worth.

So Claire decided on a different approach, and she spent a good portion of the morning running between work and the apartment she shared with Chloe in Metropolis putting everything together.

She borrowed a wig from Chloe—one with bobbed-cut red hair that her friend used when she needed to investigate something undercover—and she wore an outfit that didn't look anything like what a farm girl would wear. She donned the tightest pair of jeans she owned and a red halter top with a revealing neckline.

Claire also grabbed a pair of black, strappy stilettos out of her co-worker Cat Grant's desk. Cat kept a drawer filled with the things in the event of a shoe emergency, and Claire considered this to be just that. She needed shoes that would fit the persona she was trying to portray, and unfortunately, Chloe wasn't the same shoe-size.

Finally, Claire borrowed a black leather jacket from Chloe. It was snug, but the jacket—along with the rest of the outfit—helped with Claire's objective. She wanted to draw people's attention while she visited certain places throughout Gotham, and she wanted those people to hear the questions she was going to ask. If she could obtain the responses she wanted directly, or if she could hear these people with her super-hearing chatting about the inquisitive redhead after her visit, she was closer to accomplishing her goal. Her look was meant to be a conversation starter, and Claire just hoped that perhaps one of those conversations would lead to the answers she needed.

"So you know what you're going to do?" Chloe asked from across the room, as Claire inspected her appearance one last time in her full-length mirror.

Chloe was helping Claire go over everything during her lunch break, while Claire had already asked her editor Perry White for the afternoon off. She'd told him that the trauma from the previous night had left her overwhelmed and she needed to rest and recover from the stress of it. White hadn't pushed her. Claire did have a gun pointed at her less than 24 hours ago, and something like that was bound to affect a person.

A normal person probably would've needed time to recover after that; Claire just needed to find out what really happened.

"I'm going to ask questions until I get the answers I'm looking for," Claire responded, turning around and zipping up the jacket partway. "Or at least until I see that my questions are having an effect on someone. I'll keep my ears open for any side discussions that might be going on and hope that all this will lead me to the guy I'm after."

"And if your first plan doesn't work?" Chloe questioned.

"That's what my backup plan is for," Claire answered, grabbing a duffel bag from the floor. It contained an outfit that was much more her style—a light blue button-up top, a gray blazer, and a pair of black ballet flats. If her original plan didn't produce results, Claire was going to change her clothes and either investigate the streets around the hotel or approach Alfred Pennyworth to find out what he might remember from the prior night. She would drop the bag in a locker at the train station in Gotham so that she wouldn't need to run all the way back to Metropolis to become Claire Kent again.

"Actually," Claire added, "I think I might use part of this plan now." She then used her super-speed to change from the heels into her flats and stuff the fancier pair of shoes in her bag.

"Come on, Claire!" Chloe protested. "I know they don't hurt your feet. Besides, the stilettos make the outfit!"

"Maybe they do," Claire replied. "But those things would never survive the run to Gotham. I'll change back once I get there."

"You'd better!" Chloe said warningly.

Claire just looked back her friend with a smile. "Thanks for the help, Chloe," she said before leaving the room with a rush of wind and making her way to Gotham.

* * *

The overcast, gloomy sky above was starting to match Claire's mood.

She had gone through four places on Chloe's list and still hadn't found a trace of the missing man. She was mostly dealing with afternoon crowds in bars and at the docks, and they didn't seem to be the most talkative bunch—at least not when it came to the information she was seeking. They'd perhaps been bothered by the questions she'd asked and the names she'd mentioned, given the way some fell silent and others looked ready for a fight, but they hadn't said anything worthwhile.

The men in these places did seem more than willing, though, to offer comments about her outfit and certain parts of her anatomy, but Claire had learned to tune out remarks like that in high school. She was focused on finding out what she wanted to know.

Claire considered going to the hotel or to visit Alfred Pennyworth now, and then coming back to this part of Gotham after nightfall. Perhaps then she'd hear someone talking about the redhead and her questions—because that didn't appear to be happening yet.

This seemed like an even better idea when the fifth place once again provided no answers; it only left her with a new shadow as she went out the door.

When Claire reached the alley next to the bar, the man behind her made his move. Claire was walking at a normal pace when the man sped up and leapt in front of her, brandishing a knife.

"Get in there," he snarled, jerking his head toward the alleyway. The man was shorter than Claire and heavyset. His hair was unkempt and greasy, and his crooked teeth were in varying shades of yellow.

"You don't want to do this," Claire replied, walking backwards into the narrow corridor. While it looked like she was complying with his demand, Claire was actually leading him into alleyway for her own purposes. It would be easier to deal with him there than out in the open.

"I really do," the man answered, as he held the knife towards Claire with one hand and fumbled to undo his belt buckle with the other. "Now start taking those clothes off before I start cutting them off!"

"I gave you fair warning," Claire said with a sigh. She was going to disarm the man when she heard it—a thrumming heartbeat behind her and steady breathing. Someone else was in the alleyway, but not on the ground. The noises were coming from above her.

Claire hesitated for a moment too long, and her would-be assailant lunged at her. She shifted to grab the man's wrist and tried to make her movements as human-like as possible. It didn't matter, though. Her actions went unseen by the newcomer; he was too preoccupied with jumping from a rooftop and landing on her attacker.

She recognized him immediately. Of course she did. He was wearing black armor and a cape. He disarmed the man and knocked him unconscious in one fluid motion before he turned to face her.

Claire wasn't one to be caught off guard. She was fast—she could usually see every aspect of a situation before anyone else, but when the Batman wrapped his arm around her waist, she felt off-kilter.

She heard a projectile being fired into the air to her left, and all of a sudden, she was lifted from the ground. The Batman had launched some sort of grappling hook above them, and it quickly brought them to the roof of the bar. He separated from her and moved to the ledge of the building.

"What do you think you're doing?" the Batman's gravelly voice demanded, as he looked over his shoulder at Claire.

She didn't see any point in lying to him. She had spent the day searching for answers, but she was no closer now than when she started. Claire might not agree with the Batman's tactics—his way of frightening criminals to give up their evil ways—but he might have the information she needed.

"I'm here for answers," Claire stated. "The attack last night at the Ritz Hotel—one of the gunmen got away. I'm trying to find him."

"Why?" the Batman asked. "Why you?"

Claire could only assume he was asking why a woman like her would be searching for the runaway; he couldn't be asking about her specifically. She hadn't used her real name since arriving in Gotham that afternoon, and she looked nothing like she did the prior evening.

Claire decided that her best option was to keep her response short.

"I want to know the truth about what happened last night," she answered. "I have my own reasons for wanting to know."

"No," the Batman replied, a grim tone still in his voice. "Why is Claire Kent in Gotham investigating, and not the Blur?"


	4. Chapter 4

_**Author's Note:**_ _I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, and followed this story. I greatly appreciate your feedback._

 _And to all readers_ — _thank you for reading!_

* * *

Bruce had spent the morning looking into Jonathan Crane's activities. Since returning home to Gotham, Bruce had found out that the psychiatrist was in league with city's mob. Crane had been helping the crime lord Carmine Falcone—diagnosing any of his underlings that were arrested as criminally insane. This meant that Falcone's men were moved to the less secure Arkham Asylum, rather than staying in the penitentiaries where they belonged.

Crane also appeared to be tied to the drug shipments that Falcone had been moving through Gotham. Bruce just hadn't figured out what the psychiatrist's role was in the scheme. He was now running a program to sift through Crane's financials to see if that could provide him with any new clues.

As the program cycled through accounts, Bruce's thoughts once again drifted back to the previous night. He hated leaving the situation unresolved, even if he believed the Blur would be looking into it. He knew Metropolis' vigilante was fast and strong, but that didn't mean the Blur was capable enough to track down a missing man in Gotham.

The Blur hadn't been there when Claire Kent had nearly been shot in the ballroom. In fact, he hadn't shown up until Bruce had already taken care of most of the gunmen. That suggested to Bruce that the Blur hadn't been in Gotham the whole evening to keep an eye on Lex Luthor. It made sense given the reports that had shown up in Metropolis' papers this morning. Those indicated that the Blur had been the hero in that city during three other instances last night.

But what drew the Blur to Gotham then?

Based on articles and reports, the Blur had a tendency of showing up wherever trouble was occurring—most frequently in Metropolis but occasionally in other places around the world. But the Blur didn't seem to visit Gotham often. From what Bruce could tell, the Blur liked clean problems with clean solutions. Burning buildings, muggings, car accidents—in those situations the Blur could clearly spot who was in trouble and find a way to save the innocent and apprehend the villains.

In Gotham, there were the crimes that could be easily solved, but there were also far murkier circumstances. Organized crime festered in the city, and it was often difficult to tell the good guys from the bad. These didn't seem to be challenges that the Blur would readily take on, so he was rarely spotted in Gotham.

And that was just fine with Bruce. He didn't need the Blur getting in the way of his mission to bring justice to his city.

But then again, Bruce couldn't help but wonder what really happened last night. The uncertainty of it all was driving him to distraction.

The program on Crane looked like it would still take a few hours to complete, so Bruce figured he had the time. He left it running in the background and brought up security footage from the hotel. Perhaps if he reviewed the events of the previous night, he might be able to spot something new.

* * *

After going through the footage twice, Bruce had only found one thing that stood out—Claire Kent.

She seemed like just a plain woman in her twenties. Yes, she was taller than most, but not abnormally so. She was still shorter than Bruce.

He'd watched her all evening, worried that Lex might try to get to her father through her if whatever Lex had planned for the evening failed.

And she was ordinary—almost too ordinary.

It struck Bruce on his second viewing of the ballroom footage. She went out of her way to go unnoticed—but not like a normal shy person would. It was almost as if she were forcing herself to remain unseen by the people around her. Bruce knew something about hiding in plain sight, and he wondered why a farm girl turned reporter would feel the need to act that way.

Bruce reasoned that it could have something to do with her father. Maybe the media attention he was receiving because of the election was getting to her, but Bruce wasn't certain.

Her strange, introverted nature wasn't all that stood out to Bruce, though. Her reaction the moment the gunmen arrived in the ballroom was what made him truly question her.

One of the men pointed his weapon at her father, and without hesitation, Claire stepped directly into the line of fire. It could have been just a moment of sheer bravery—a daughter confronting danger to save her father. But Bruce had seen that situation numerous times before—once as a child facing down the barrel of a gun and again as an adult, saving people from would-be assailants.

There had always been one constant in every instance. There had always been some level of fear.

But this moment with Claire was different. There was fear in her eyes when the gun was raised at her father, but that fear was gone the moment she stood in front of the weapon. A second later, she seemed to tremble and move nervously as if she were afraid, but Bruce could tell it was just a façade. Her initial reaction was genuine, and everything afterward seemed fake. It was almost as if she thought she didn't have a reason to be afraid, but in all his life, Bruce had never seen that response before from a normal person.

Why wouldn't she be afraid?

And suddenly, a solution presented itself to Bruce. Claire wasn't afraid because she didn't think she would be harmed. She must have thought she had some means at her disposal of escaping the threat before her, and Bruce believed that he knew exactly what that was—or rather _who_ that was.

The Blur.

Claire Kent must have somehow known the Blur. If that were the case, she might have had some means of contacting him when the gunmen arrived, and perhaps she'd thought her city's vigilante would save her.

The Blur had been too late to stop the first shot fired, but he'd made it there by the time the hostages and gunmen had reached the stairwell. And yet, he still hadn't made his presence known. Everyone believed that the Batman had taken down the last four gunmen, and Claire hadn't tried to correct them. If she'd known that the Blur was going to help her last night, then she had to know he was the one who'd rescued her in the stairwell and not the Batman. But still, she hadn't said anything about the Blur to anyone.

Then again, Bruce could appreciate a need to keep silent. Alfred hadn't told anyone what he knew about the appearance of the Batman at the hotel last night, and Bruce understood that completely. It kept Alfred safe that the public didn't know about his connection to the Batman, and if any of the Batman's enemies were to find out about it, then Alfred would no doubt be in danger.

Perhaps the same circumstances existed between the Blur and Claire Kent. If anyone found out that the Blur would answer whenever Claire called, someone would certainly find a way to use that knowledge against the Blur—and most likely harm Claire in the process.

Suddenly, Bruce's computer pinged, indicating that the program had finished sorting through Crane's financial data. At first glance, Bruce noticed that there were transfers of high dollar values that would require additional research, but there were also several other transactions that caught his eye. A series of them all occurred in a diner near the docks. The location was nowhere close to Arkham, the hospital, or anywhere else that Crane might go for his day job. The transactions also lacked any regular pattern, occurring at various times of the day and night.

Bruce decided to look into the diner first. He'd been in the cave for too long now, and he needed to be in his city accomplishing something. He'd leave the Blur and Claire Kent for when he got back.

* * *

Bruce headed to the diner with his hair uncombed and dressed in a hoodie, plain shirt, and ragged jeans. Nothing about his appearance would make people assume he was a billionaire, and that would help him to go unnoticed.

He had a feeling Crane had been meeting one of his less than reputable associates there, and Bruce believed he could find out more if he investigated the place and observed its patrons. In case trouble arose, Bruce brought his batsuit with him, packed in an inconspicuous bag that he left tucked behind a dumpster in an alleyway next to the diner.

Bruce grabbed a paper on the way in and found a booth to settle into. He sat at an angle that gave him a decent view of the place and kept an amplifier in his ear. The device allowed Bruce to better hear the conversations occurring throughout the diner.

It was in the middle of the afternoon, so there wasn't much of a crowd, but Bruce already had reason to believe that he would be able to find out something. When he'd entered the place, Bruce had spotted several known associates of Carmine Falcone, which made it seem like there would be useful knowledge to gain from this outing—whether about Crane or some other criminal activities of Falcone's men.

And apparently, Bruce wasn't wrong. In a matter of hours, he'd learned about men who were moving up in the ranks after Falcone's arrest, plans for new operations outside of the area of Gotham known as the Narrows, and rumors of a mysterious man who'd been helping to fund Falcone and move drugs into the city.

He hadn't heard about Crane directly, but Bruce felt like the afternoon had been informative. He had new leads to pursue, and he was ready to return home to investigate them.

Just as Bruce was about to stand up, though, the door to the diner opened, and a woman entered the establishment.

She was tall, and her strides were confident. She had a figure, and her outfit did little to hide it. Several heads turned to watch this redhead make her way from the door to the diner's bar. She settled on a stool and began making conversation with the man behind the counter.

It was normal enough to begin with. Bruce could tell from the exchange that the woman was not a regular; she was only there for information. The man behind the counter didn't seem interested in sharing anything with her, though. He denied knowing the individuals that she asked about, but Bruce could tell that the man was lying. He tensed at several of the names she mentioned, and a few of the customers at tables around the diner shared a similar reaction.

This woman was stirring up trouble, and she clearly didn't seem to care.

Bruce didn't recognize her. He'd spent the last few weeks studying the criminals of Gotham and anyone connected to them, but this woman was new. Her questions suggested that she might be a cop, but her blunt methods were more like those of a journalist.

And then it hit him. The names she was asking about—Bruce wouldn't have been surprised if those men had ties to the attack last night at the Ritz. Her lack of fear was also apparent. She was in a room filled with strangers—doing her best to upset them—but she still wasn't backing down, nor did she seem nervous. Her manner of questioning was just like a reporter's, and ignoring the heels, her height was right.

But nothing else about her was.

If he hadn't spent the better part of last night watching her at the charity event and this morning reviewing the footage from the hotel, Bruce doubted that he would've seen it.

The woman in front of him was Claire Kent.

She was once again putting herself in harm's way, but not to deal with an immediate threat to herself or her family. She was actively pursuing danger this time, and she was on her own as far as Bruce could tell.

He looked around the diner to gauge the damage being done. The other customers didn't seem happy with Claire's questioning, but they weren't reaching for weapons or making any moves toward her. Still, she was taking a risk, and it was unnerving for Bruce to watch.

Thankfully, she stood up and left the place after a few more minutes of receiving nothing but empty responses to her inquiries. Bruce paid attention to the direction she headed in and made his own exit shortly thereafter. He was out the door in time to watch Claire enter a bar down the street that Bruce knew was unsavory.

He needed to stop her. She might think she knew what she was doing; she might think she was being safe by wearing a disguise. She might even think that the Blur would rescue her if she found herself in any real trouble. But Bruce didn't have any assurances of that.

She may be a resident of Metropolis now, but she was really just a farm girl, raised in a small town. She was no match for the dangers that Gotham could pose.

He needed to take her away from her current path and discourage her from doing something like this again.

He doubted, though, that he would have much luck convincing her as Bruce Wayne. And if she saw him dressed as he was and in this part of town, she would inevitably have questions for him.

This wasn't a task for Bruce Wayne. No, this was a task for someone else.

* * *

Bruce was suited up and on the roof of the bar before Claire had left the place. He used his amplifier to hear what was going on inside, and he could tell that Claire was once again asking her questions.

Unsurprisingly, she wasn't having any luck with the people inside this place either. It wasn't long before she was headed back out the door.

But she wasn't alone.

A man was following her, and Bruce could tell that he was carrying a weapon—most likely a knife. He caught up to Claire quickly and forced her into the alleyway next to the bar.

When the man drew closer to her, Bruce couldn't stand by any longer. He dropped down from his perch and knocked the man out cold. Bruce would call in an anonymous tip to his ally in the police force—Sergeant Jim Gordon—to let him know about this man and his attempted assault. But that could wait until after his discussion with Claire.

Bruce could see the surprised look on her face when he turned back toward her.

Glancing at their surroundings, Bruce realized that this wasn't the right setting for their conversation. Anyone could find their way into this alley and interrupt them, and Bruce wanted to be able to speak to Claire without distraction. He wrapped his arm around her waist, and using a tool from his belt, he had them on the roof in an instant.

He released her once they were steady and moved a few feet away to the ledge.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked, using a harsh voice that in no way resembled the flippant, playful tone he'd taken during the party the prior night.

"I'm here for answers," she replied. "The attack last night at the Ritz Hotel—one of the gunmen got away. I'm trying to find him."

That wasn't the answer that Bruce was looking for. He wanted to know what Claire was doing in Gotham. Bruce was nearly certain that she had some connection to the Blur—so what was she doing back in this city when the Blur could be here instead?

"Why?" he asked. "Why you?"

Her answer was vague and infuriating. "I want to know the truth about what happened last night," she said coolly. "I have my own reasons for wanting to know."

Bruce realized that he needed to be more direct. If he wanted answers about the Blur and his relationship to Claire, then he would just have to ask for that information.

"No," he stated. "Why is Claire Kent in Gotham investigating, and not the Blur?"


	5. Chapter 5

Claire wasn't expecting this.

Of anything that could happen while she was in a disguise roaming around Gotham, she didn't think the Batman would show up to confront her about both Claire Kent and the Blur.

She knew she might encounter the Batman while she was looking into what happened last night. In this city, wearing what she had on, Claire was bound to attract some sort of trouble—and that was just the kind of thing that tended to draw the Batman into a situation.

If she did run into him, though, Claire had thought that the Batman would handle the rescue just like she would have as the Blur: save the person in distress, bring them to a safe location, and then leave the scene.

Apparently, that wasn't the case this time.

The Batman had questions for her—questions that showed that he knew she was Claire Kent.

How he knew that, though, was a mystery to Claire. She didn't look, sound, or act like Claire Kent would have in the places she'd been today.

Despite this surprise, Claire didn't panic. She knew that it would likely just end up making things worse.

She thought about what the Batman had said exactly and realized that he'd referenced the fact that she was Claire Kent and that he wanted to know why the Blur wasn't in Gotham. That suggested that of everything he knew, the Batman still hadn't made the connection that she was the Blur.

That was one positive to this mess. She didn't know the Batman or what he might do if he ever acquired that piece of information. So now Claire just needed to figure out what to do with the masked vigilante before her—and what he really knew about her.

"How do you know who I am?" she asked.

"I'm observant," he replied, as he turned to face her. "And you didn't answer my question. Where is the Blur?"

"How should I know?" Claire asked. She wanted to distance herself from the Blur in the Batman's mind before he jumped to any more conclusions.

"He saved you last night."

"I thought you did that," she replied quickly, but the Batman didn't seem satisfied with her answer.

"Not entirely," he said grimly. "The Blur was at the hotel last night. He saved you in that stairwell, and you know it was him."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Claire stated. "Sure, I know the Blur shows up where there's trouble, but why would the Blur show up here in Gotham? And during the middle of a crime _you_ were dealing with? That doesn't make sense."

"Neither does you walking around the Narrows, going into bars filled with thugs," he replied harshly. "You're not playing some game here. You're asking for trouble, and I won't always be there to get you out of it when the Blur fails to show again."

"I'm not asking for your help," Claire said. "Or the Blur's."

"But you had his help last night, didn't you?" the Batman interrupted. "And now you're investigating the criminals behind the attack."

He continued without letting her answer, "Does the Blur know what you're doing here? Or did you just plan on contacting him when things went wrong?"

The Batman wasn't backing down. He knew Claire and the Blur were somehow connected, and he didn't seem willing to let that theory go. Claire realized that her only option was to find a way to minimize the damage.

"Look," she began, "maybe the Blur did show up last night, but that doesn't mean I'm working with him or that I could contact him if there's trouble. I'm here to find out for myself what those men were really after at the hotel last night, and I'm not expecting the Blur to help me with that."

The Batman stared at her, as if he hoped Claire would break under his gaze and reveal whatever it was that he was looking for. Claire didn't have anything else to tell him, which she made clear as she said, "That's all I know, so what is it you want from me?"

"I want you to leave Gotham," he answered. "This isn't a place for someone like you. You're going to get yourself killed if you keep asking your questions around here."

"But I need to find answers," Claire replied. She couldn't leave Gotham empty-handed.

"You need to be on the next train out of town," the Batman stated forcefully. "Leave this investigation to people who know what they're doing."

"Who would that be? The Gotham Police Department?" Claire asked harshly. "They don't have any real leads. And besides, if you believed that they were capable of solving crimes, then I doubt you would be doing what you're doing most nights."

"I didn't say the police," the Batman replied.

"So what are you saying?" Claire asked, now curious. "Are you looking into what happened last night?"

"I have my own thoughts on the attack," he answered.

"What are they?" Claire asked quickly. She hadn't had any real luck today, but now she thought that the Batman might be able to help her. "Do you know anything about the man who got away last night—where he might be hiding or who might be helping him?"

"What I know—I'm not sharing it with you," he said sternly.

Claire was running out of options, and the Batman didn't seem interested in helping her.

But maybe he would be willing to help someone else.

"What about the Blur?" she asked. Claire knew it was a risk, but the Batman was already aware of some connection between herself and the Blur. He couldn't be dissuaded from that belief, so Claire figured she should start using it to her advantage.

"Would you tell the Blur what you know about the attack last night?"

"I thought you weren't working with the Blur," the Batman said.

"And I thought you didn't believe that," Claire replied. "Now, if I could get the Blur to Gotham, would you tell him what you know?"

"You need to leave Gotham first," the Batman answered. "Send him here. Have him meet me on the roof of Wayne Tower at midnight. I'll help him with this investigation, but not you."

"Deal," Claire said eagerly, before the Batman approached her and once again wrapped his arm around her waist. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Making sure you live up to your end of the bargain," he replied.

Soon enough, they were moving through the air again. This time, though, they landed on a platform to the train that ran around the city.

"The next train through here will take you to Gotham's central terminal," the Batman stated, as he released Claire. "You can go back to Metropolis from there."

"And you'll tell the Blur what you know," she replied.

"I'll tell him what he needs to know," the Batman said cryptically, moving away from her.

Claire didn't like his response. She wanted to make sure that the Batman would give the Blur the information she was after. "You mean you'll tell the Blur what you know about the attack last night, right?"

"I'll speak to the Blur," he replied. "Now get on the train."

Claire could hear the train approaching, as she watched the Batman leap from the platform. A normal person wouldn't have been able to tell that he was still nearby, but Claire knew he was there. She could hear his steady heartbeat over the rumbling wheels and screeching brakes of the oncoming train.

Claire was tempted to follow him with her eyes as well. She could use her x-ray vision to take a look behind his mask, and after inputting those details into Chloe's facial recognition software, she might be able to give the face a name. She could have the identity of the Batman if the software worked, or even if it didn't, Claire would still be able to spot him again if she ever saw him on the street without his disguise.

It would be easy, but somehow Claire felt like it would be cheating. She didn't entirely trust him, and she still didn't agree with his methods, but she understood why he wore the mask.

And besides, if she figured out his identity, then that might just encourage the Batman to retaliate and investigate her further—and Claire didn't want that. It was bad enough that he'd realized that there was a connection between herself and the Blur. She didn't need him digging any deeper into her life.

And Claire had other problems to deal with. She had no guarantee that the Batman would do as he'd said and tell the Blur what he knew—if he even knew anything at all. He could have been lying to her about having details on the attack last night in order to convince her to leave the city. This meant that it would be a risk to rely solely on the Batman's information and on the hope that he really would be willing to share that information with the Blur.

Claire still had two other leads she could pursue in Gotham. As she boarded the train, she figured that she could look into them before she left town and then meet up with the Batman tonight as planned. She could hear him, remaining near the platform until the train pulled away. Claire knew that there would be no way for him to know whether she'd stayed a bit longer in Gotham, so she didn't see any harm in it. She would head to the station, change her clothes, and then find out what she could from the roads surrounding the hotel and from Alfred Pennyworth.

* * *

Bruce could hear his phone buzzing in his ear as he watched the train leave the Narrows. He only had his private line programmed to ring in his suit, and only Alfred had that particular number, so Bruce knew who was calling.

"Alfred?" Bruce spoke, his voice no longer reflecting the Batman's gravelly rasp.

" _Master Bruce,_ " his butler replied. " _Just calling to remind you, sir, of your appointment with Mr. Earle this afternoon. It's in forty-five minutes at Wayne Tower._ "

"Cancel it," Bruce responded. He didn't have time for Earle and his shady business practices now; Bruce had bigger problems to deal with in Gotham. Besides, he was already working on a way to address the harm that Earle had done to Wayne Enterprises and its employees. Bruce didn't want to waste his time on the man in the meantime.

" _I'm sorry, Master Bruce,"_ Alfred answered. " _But this meeting has already been postponed three times. You can't avoid Earle any longer._ "

"Fine," Bruce stated, giving into his butler's request.

" _Very good, sir,_ " Alfred replied. " _I'm assuming you're in the city—is that correct?_ "

Bruce confirmed Alfred's guess.

" _Then may I suggest that you make your way to the penthouse? You have spare suits in your wardrobe there, because I'm also assuming you're not currently wearing something that would be appropriate for a trip to Wayne Tower._ "

"You know me too well," Bruce responded.

" _Indeed I do, sir,_ " Alfred replied. " _I will meet you outside your building in twenty minutes to drive you to your meeting._ "

"Better make it thirty, Alfred," Bruce said, knowing how long it would take him to reach his penthouse from the Narrows.

" _Very well, sir. You'll just arrive to your meeting fashionably late then?_ "

"That seems like the sort of thing billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne would do."

" _Yes, sir,_ " Alfred replied. " _I will see you shortly._ "

Bruce said a goodbye to Alfred before cutting off the line. He needed to move if he was going to make it across town and clean himself up before this meeting, even though he wasn't too concerned about it. He had a far more important meeting planned for tonight, and Bruce knew that he should be spending his time preparing for that.

* * *

Claire had managed to identify several significant tire tread marks in the alley beside the hotel. She texted the details to Chloe in hopes that her friend might be able to find out more about the vehicle used the previous evening. Tire tracks would only give so much information, though. Claire knew it would be beneficial to have more specifics on the make and model of the vehicle.

After finishing her sweep of the alley, Claire decided to track down Alfred Pennyworth. She first ran to Wayne Manor, which was in an open area just outside the city. The place put Lex Luthor's house in Smallville to shame with its massive size and remarkable beauty. Claire didn't stay to admire the house for long, though. She asked a groundskeeper where she could find Mr. Pennyworth, and he informed her that the butler had gone into town to drive Mr. Wayne to a meeting.

Claire then went back to the city, and thankfully, her first guess as to the butler's location turned out to be the right one. She had assumed that any meeting Bruce would be going to would be at Wayne Tower, and apparently she was correct. She saw a fancy Rolls Royce parked just outside the building, and the man standing beside the vehicle matched the description she had of Alfred Pennyworth.

"Excuse me," she said meekly as she approached the man on the sidewalk. She was once again Claire Kent—glasses on, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, and clothing that didn't make her stand out. Her voice matched the rest of her current persona, but she was still going to ask her questions.

"Can I help you, miss?" Alfred replied in a warm, friendly tone.

"I hope so," she answered. "You see…um…I'm Claire Kent. I'm with the Daily Planet and—"

"I'm sorry, miss," Alfred interrupted, his voice a bit more stern. "I don't speak to reporters about my employer."

"I'm not here about your employer," Claire said quickly. "I'm here about the attack on the Ritz Hotel last night. I understand that you might've…well…seen something during the incident. The make of the van the men arrived in, possibly?"

"Well, miss, I shared everything that I saw with the police, and I believe it's still an ongoing investigation. I don't think I should be giving any details to the press."

"Of course, but if there is any other detail that may have come to mind since last night—anything you might've just remembered, if you could let me know—"

"Alfred?" a voice said from behind her, and Claire realized she should've been paying closer attention to her surroundings. She recognized the voice from last night and knew exactly who was speaking.

"Master Wayne," Alfred replied. "Are you ready to return home, sir? I was just telling this young lady that I couldn't help her."

"Claire Kent," Bruce said from behind her, and at that, Claire finally turned around to face him. She didn't feel like dealing with the enigmatic billionaire again, so she'd hoped to avoid him when she questioned his butler.

But Claire wasn't that lucky, and she was caught off guard by the way Bruce was looking at her now. His eyes were almost raking over her, as he stood casually in front of her with one hand in his pocket. She was used to men looking at her when she wore a disguise like the one she'd had on earlier this afternoon, but they didn't usually look twice at her when she was Claire Kent.

"Mr. Wayne," Claire said, finally acknowledging him after a moment of hesitating. His eyes went back to hers when she spoke, and a sly smile spread across his face.

"You two know each other?" Alfred asked.

"Yes," Bruce answered, looking at his butler. "Claire is Jonathan Kent's daughter. We met at the charity event last night before all hell broke loose." His eyes went back to her as he added softly, "I hope you weren't harmed. It sounded like things turned rough for you when those men showed up."

Claire averted her gaze and adjusted her glasses under Bruce's scrutiny. "Well, I guess I was kind of lucky that the Batman turned up when he did."

"I guess you were," Bruce replied, and there was something about his tone that made Claire look back up at him. She couldn't place it, but there seemed to be something hiding behind those blue eyes. And it left Claire feeling on edge around Bruce. She decided that it was time to go. The butler didn't seem inclined to share anything further, so now appeared to be as good a time as any to leave.

"Right," she mumbled. "I should just be getting back. It's a…well, it's a long ride to Metropolis from Gotham, so thank you for your time, Mr. Pennyworth." She turned to the butler and nodded at him before trying to make her way past Bruce. "Goodbye, Mr. Wayne," she added quietly, but suddenly, he stepped in front of her path.

"Wait," Bruce said. "Why don't you let us give you a lift to the station? It's going to storm soon, and you'll never catch a cab in the rain."

"A little rain never hurt anybody…Well, unless it led to a flood or meant a hurricane or something," Claire replied, hoping that her rambling and awkwardness would help to deter Bruce. She looked back at him and once again tried to make an exit.

"But anyway," she began, "I should just…um…be going. Thank you for the offer, Mr. Wayne, but it's really not necessary."

"Nonsense. In fact, I insist," Bruce replied, grabbing the handle of the car door. "Last night when I let you out of my sight, you ended up being taken hostage by a group of criminals, so I don't want to make the same mistake twice."

He opened the car door for her and gestured for her to enter, but Claire still felt a need to leave. There was something off about her current situation. She couldn't exactly identify it, but she thought that it would be best to go.

"Well, I doubt there are any bad guys on the way to the train station just waiting around to grab a simple reporter," she said, thinking that particular point might help convince Bruce to back down.

"Let's not risk it," Bruce said, clearly not satisfied with her arguments.

"It's on the way, Miss," Alfred added with a smile from beside her.

Claire didn't stand a chance. Now she had both the billionaire and his butler trying to persuade her, and she didn't have any more excuses. She would take the ride to the station, return to Metropolis, and leave this city where she'd run into one failure after another today. She just hoped that the Blur might have better luck tonight dealing with the Batman.

"Fine," Claire answered, before she entered the vehicle. Bruce joined her in the backseat, and Alfred took his place behind the wheel.

"So are you writing an article about what happened last night?" the butler asked as he pulled into traffic.

"Something like that," Claire responded.

"Well, I suppose it will be useful in writing about it to have had the first-hand experience of living through it," Alfred said. "Were you at the event last night to write about the charity to begin with before everything else had happened?"

"No," Claire began, but Bruce quickly started speaking for her.

"She was there with her father," he said.

"Oh, yes, that's right," Alfred said. "Both your father and Lex Luthor were at the event last night. They're running against one another in an election, aren't they? Did they make the night more about politics than the charity?"

"My father was actually there to support the charity," Claire answered. "What Lex was doing there I…um…I can't say."

"And what stake does your father have in the orphans of Gotham?" Bruce asked, his eyes once again fixed on Claire.

She met his gaze as she answered, "My father supports any charity that helps to find homes for children." She paused and looked away from Bruce before continuing, remembering that she needed to sound and act like Claire Kent right now, "My parents…well, they couldn't have a child on their own, so they adopted me. It's…it's why my father was there last night."

"I didn't know that, Miss Kent," Alfred said. "And I thought an election brought out everyone's secrets."

"My father knows I'm not a fan of attention," Claire replied. "So he hasn't been publicizing it as part of his campaign."

"That's good of him," Alfred said.

"Yes," Claire said. "Well…um…I think I see the station ahead. The traffic's not great so you can just drop me here and I can walk the rest of the way."

"It's not that much further," Bruce replied. "We can wait and make sure you make it to the front door."

Claire didn't know why Bruce was so determined to see her to the station, but she was ready to be out of the car. As soon as she was on her own again, she was going to run back to Metropolis. After a day of disguises and being pushed around by people who didn't know what she was really capable of, she needed to feel freedom again.

She closed her eyes for a moment as she waited for the cars to clear out in front of them, and then she heard it. It was a sound she'd picked up on earlier in the day—a steady heartbeat. It was just like the one she'd heard before, too similar for it to just be chance.

And now she heard it from within one of the passengers of the car.

They just reached the station as the realization struck her. It all fit—the timing of Bruce Wayne's return to Gotham and the appearance of the Batman. Bruce had to want justice after what had happened to him as a child, and the Batman was on a mission to deliver justice to all those who deserved it. And the Batman had tools that few men could afford, but billionaire Bruce Wayne could.

Claire couldn't be completely certain about it, though. A familiar heartbeat wasn't concrete proof that Bruce Wayne was the Batman, and it was possible that the other evidence she'd just thought of was simply coincidence.

But then again, Bruce Wayne and the Batman were both determined to see her board a train out of town. This seemed like another argument in favor of her new theory.

Claire wouldn't know for sure unless she ran through Bruce's house to find proof or until she met with the Batman tonight. She could look through his mask during their meeting and possibly confirm her suspicions then. This seemed like the better option, because she didn't want to invade the privacy of a potentially innocent man just based on speculation. She would just have to wait until tonight to know the truth.

In the meantime, though, she didn't feel a need to prolong her encounter with Bruce. Whether or not he was the Batman, he still made her feel uneasy. As soon as the car stopped, she had her door open. She offered a quick thank you and then headed into the station without looking back.

* * *

"So, finally making new friends, sir?" Alfred commented from the front seat. "She seemed like a nice girl."

"She's working with the Blur," Bruce responded, keeping his eyes on Claire as she entered the station.

"What? Miss Kent is working with the Blur?" Alfred asked in disbelief. "That young woman is associating with Metropolis' vigilante? Why?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," Bruce answered. "She has a reason right now. She's trying to find out who was really behind the attack last night and whether they were specifically targeting her father. But now I think she may have been working with the Blur for longer than that."

"What makes you think that, sir?"

"He showed up to help her last night, and she knew he would—that shows a prior history between them," Bruce said. "And it makes sense, Alfred. A reporter would be a good source of information, and she could help throw people off his trail by giving other reporters false leads."

"Perhaps that's what you and the Batman need then," Alfred said.

"What?" Bruce asked.

"A nice girl willing to help you with your crime-fighting efforts—I'm sure that would make your life easier," Alfred suggested.

"He's endangering her, Alfred," Bruce replied. "He's made her think that she can get out of any situation, so now she's taking risks she shouldn't. If that doesn't get her killed, then the wrong person finding out about her connection to the Blur will."

"You believe they would hurt her to get to him," Alfred said solemnly.

"I think that both Claire Kent and the Blur are lucky that no one else seems to have figured it out and tried something against her already," Bruce replied.

"Well, what's to be done about it, sir?" Alfred asked.

"I'm going to talk to the Blur about it tonight," Bruce answered. "I'll make him see that he shouldn't be risking her life like this."

"And how do you intend to do that, sir? They say he's the fastest man alive."

"Well, I guess I'll just have to find a way to stay a step ahead of him," Bruce said.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Author's Note:**_ _I just wanted to thank everyone again for taking the time to read, favorite, follow, or review this story. I truly appreciate your comments._

 _To answer a few questions I've received, my character Claire is primarily a female version of the Clark Kent from WB's_ Smallville _, so that means no flying or cape—at least not yet. Her powers aren't at the level that Superman's were in the animated series,_ Justice League, _or in the live action movies, although I might be borrowing a few abilities from those sources as needed._ _My Claire is mostly relying on a mix of her basic Kryptonian abilities and human skills she's learned. If you're looking for an idea from the_ Smallville _universe, I'd recommend the episode "Arrow." Clark had super-speed, strength, hearing, and x-ray vision at that point, but he figured out about Oliver Queen's alter ego for the most part using normal observational skills._

 _This brings me to another answer—the Claire Kent from my story has not yet met Oliver Queen. I have my reasons for that._

 _Now, as always, thank you for reading!_

* * *

Claire made it back to Metropolis in a matter of minutes. She didn't take the train. She needed to run to ease the tension she was feeling, and besides, she didn't need to be wasting money on a train ticket.

Claire could hear Chloe rummaging through a bathroom drawer once she entered their apartment. It was after work, and Claire knew that Chloe had a date with her boyfriend Jimmy Olsen planned for this evening. She thought it would be best to wait and fill Chloe in on what had transpired in Gotham later. Claire didn't need to distract her friend right before she went out, and Claire would probably have more details after her meeting with the Batman tonight.

The Batman.

Thinking about him made Claire sigh in frustration. The man was complicated to begin with—anyone who spent his nights dressed up like a bat trying to take down criminals had to be. But now she had a pretty good idea of who the man was behind the mask, and it didn't make her life easier.

It did help explain things, though.

If Claire was right in her theory about the Batman, then she could understand Bruce Wayne better now. He acted out in public—coming across as flippant and uncaring, but Claire could see how that was all part of his disguise. The more superficial Bruce Wayne appeared, the less likely he seemed a good suspect for Gotham's masked vigilante.

It reminded Claire of her own use of dual identities—but she knew that was where the similarities stopped.

She might have an idea now about the man behind the Batman and his motivations, but that didn't mean she could agree with his actions. He might be pursuing justice in Gotham, but he was still using violence and fear in ways that Claire couldn't accept.

Their conversation tonight would no doubt be interesting. It seemed like the Batman wanted to lecture the Blur about drawing a farm girl into his work, but Claire had a few things to lecture the Batman about as well. Yet no matter how much they felt the need to criticize each other's methods, Claire still hoped that the Batman might be able to tell her something that would help with her investigation.

"Claire, are you home?" she heard Chloe yell from down the hallway. Her friend's voice drew Claire back into the present, as she realized that she would have time to worry about Gotham's vigilante later.

"Good. You're here," Chloe said, as she entered the main living space of their apartment. It was small compared to the house that Claire had been used to on the farm, but for Metropolis, it was a decent size. Both Chloe and Claire had their own bedrooms and bathrooms, and there was an open area comprised of their kitchen and den with a small balcony attached.

Chloe entered the room wearing a robe and with her hair wrapped up in a towel. "I've matched up most of the tire tracks you found to different vehicles that use those tires," she said. "And I have a program running to determine which of those models show up in the Gotham police's database of stolen vehicles. Odds are that these guys didn't purchase the van they used in the robbery, so I think this could really help us. Now on to something even more important than grand theft auto—I need you to help me decide what to wear tonight," she said.

"I thought you had everything planned out," Claire replied.

"I did, but then I changed my mind," Chloe said. "And unfortunately, I can't do things as fast as you can."

She then lifted up two dresses on hangers, displaying one in each hand. "So, should I go with the black or the pink?" Chloe asked, before adding, "And while you think about that, also consider the accessories I could wear with either one."

Chloe passed both dresses to Claire and turned to leave the room. "I need to finish with everything else," she commented, as she went back toward her bathroom. "I really wish I had your super-speed sometimes—and your heat vision. If I could just laser the hairs on my legs away like you do instead of having to shave, I would have so much more time."

Claire could understand Chloe's frustrations. Claire's abilities did make certain aspects of her life easier—but at the same time, they also made her life more complicated.

Normal scissors and razors didn't always work on Claire; in fact, growing up, they would only work on days that Claire was feeling sick. It turned out that on those days Claire had spent too much time playing near meteor rock—radioactive pieces of her homeworld, which she called Kryptonite. The meteor rock was one of few things on this planet that weakened Claire. When she was older, though, Claire's heat vision turned out to be strong enough to cut through her super-strength hair, so the Kryptonite exposure was no longer necessary.

"So," Chloe spoke loudly from the other room, "did you find anything else useful in Gotham?"

"Not exactly," Claire answered. "But I have a new lead that might produce some results."

"Do you need me to stay and help you with it?" Chloe asked.

"No," Claire replied. "I'll fill you in on everything tomorrow. Just go and have fun on your date tonight."

"You're sure?"

"Yes," Claire said. "I can manage things on my own for one night."

"Well," Chloe began, as she reentered the room, "did you manage to decide what I should wear?"

"Go with the pink," Claire answered, handing both dresses back to her friend. "You can wear the new heels you bought last week with it."

"That's a good idea! Thanks for the input," Chloe said, but her focus seemed to shift from the clothing to Claire. She added, "So, when do you think you'll be trying out the dating scene again? You don't seem to be doing much other than Blurring around lately. It's been how many months since your last date?"

"Not that many," Claire answered, rolling her eyes. She knew that Chloe was just trying to help her have a normal social life, but Claire wasn't normal, and her secrets made dating difficult. "And my work as the Blur is too important to waste my nights on dating."

"But even the Blur could take a night or two off," Chloe replied.

"And do what exactly? Go on dates with someone as bumbling Claire Kent until I think I might be able to trust the guy with my secret? And then what? You know that telling people what I am rarely ends well," Claire said, sounding aggravated. "I may just be better off not dating for awhile. That way, I can focus on being the Blur, and not worry about keeping secrets from those closest to me."

"What about Louis?" Chloe asked, referring to her cousin and fellow Daily Planet reporter.

"What about him?" Claire replied.

"He already knows you as Claire Kent, and he considers you a friend. And you consider him a friend, so I think that part of your lives would work out," Chloe said.

"Except he doesn't see me when I'm Claire Kent. He isn't interested in that side of me."

"Well, maybe we just need to dress you up a few times and _make_ him see you," Chloe answered. "Plus you know he's the number one fan of the Blur. If you told him your secret, he would never use that information against you, and he would do anything to help you. You know that, right?"

Claire knew that Louis was a good person. She'd known him for years, ever since he came to live with his cousin in Smallville when Claire and Chloe were finishing high school. He was a handsome man, and Claire couldn't deny that she'd had feelings for him. He was confident and determined, and he never gave up on a good story.

Unfortunately, that was part of the problem. The secret identity of the Blur could be the biggest story of Louis' career. Claire knew it would be difficult for him to keep a story like that under wraps if she ever revealed the truth to him. She trusted Louis, but she still didn't think it would be best to share her alter ego with him. Even if he promised never to tell her secret, he might accidentally let something slip, and that could put him in danger—along with everyone else in Claire's life.

From prior experience, Claire knew it was safest to keep people in the dark about her secret. No matter how much she might care for a person, they were better off—and less likely to be harmed—if they remained ignorant about her life as the Blur. It wasn't worth the risk to tell Louis the truth just to have a relationship with him. Enough people knew Claire's secret, and she didn't want to endanger anyone else.

"Look," Claire began, "I know Louis is a great guy, but I can't focus on dating right now. I have bigger problems to deal with—first of which is figuring out what really happened last night."

"Fine," Chloe responded. "Just don't give up having a life so that you can be the Blur all the time. I don't want you experiencing superhero burnout. What would I do with all my free time if I didn't have to help you with your vigilante ways?"

"Well, there's someone in Gotham who might be willing to hire you," Claire replied jokingly.

"Don't even kid about that," Chloe said. "Besides, he's probably some ugly, weird hermit behind that creepy mask of his. I've found the vigilante I want to work for, and I'm not moving to Gotham to find another one."

Claire smiled at that—in part because she appreciated her friend's loyalty, but also because Claire now had an idea of what the Batman might look like behind the mask, and she knew that Chloe couldn't be more wrong about his appearance.

"Thanks for that, Chloe," Claire said. "I'll try to find some sort of balance in my life at some point."

"You better," Chloe replied before returning to her room to finish preparing for her date.

Once her friend was out of the den, Claire picked up on the sound of sirens blaring across town. She quickly changed into her Blur clothing—black pants, a black ski mask with small slits at her eyes, and a black long-sleeved shirt. She wore another tight-fitted shirt underneath that helped diminish the shape of her chest. She tried not to stop anywhere long enough for someone to see her, but in case that ever did happen, she wanted to make sure no one could automatically tell she was a woman.

She told Chloe to have fun on her date as she ran out the door. Claire decided to spend a few hours helping people as the Blur before heading back to Gotham.

* * *

After a tiresome evening, Bruce was ready to return to his real work—saving his city. Earle had invited him to dinner with several members of Wayne Enterprises' board, and unfortunately, he had to attend. Billionaire Bruce Wayne didn't have a decent excuse for missing a dinner like that. He couldn't say that he would be busy trying to remove criminals from the streets of Gotham. Bruce still had to act like a rich playboy who was somewhat interested in his family's company, or else he might draw unwanted questions about his behavior.

Bruce had played the part well. He'd driven his new Lamborghini and picked up two European models from the first club he'd stopped at. They were more than willing to join him for the dinner, and they'd helped him in portraying a frivolous persona to Earle and the others. At one point, the girls were chastised for swimming in a decorative pool, and that had given Bruce the perfect opportunity to act like a complete snob. He'd disregarded the manager's complaints and simply bought the hotel.

It had seemed like what a spoiled brat would do in the situation.

And Bruce felt like it had worked. He'd made Earle and the others believe he was a reckless fool and nothing that they needed to worry about, which was exactly what Bruce wanted them to think. Bruce had actually been happy about the way the evening went—at least until he'd exited the hotel.

On his way out, Bruce had encountered Rachel Dawes—Gotham's Assistant District Attorney and Bruce's first love. If certain tragedies hadn't occurred, Bruce believed that he would've spent his life with Rachel. But that wasn't his fate. He'd become the Batman, and his top priority was to stop the criminals who'd overrun his city. A relationship would only impede his efforts.

He still had hope, though, that perhaps one day—when his mission was complete—he might build some sort of life with Rachel. The problem now was that Rachel could only see the Bruce Wayne that the public knew; she didn't know that he spent his nights as the Batman, trying to protect people.

He could tell that she was disappointed in him when they'd met in front of the hotel. The models that had accompanied him were beckoning to him from his car, teasing him to buy more hotels for them. Rachel had appeared unimpressed during the scene, and Bruce had tried to tell her that he was more than he seemed in that moment.

Rachel hadn't believed him, and based on his actions, Bruce couldn't blame her. She'd told him that it wasn't who he was underneath that mattered, it was what he did that would define him.

Feeling defeated, Bruce had driven the models to the next hotel on the street. He'd gone to the front desk, paid for the best suite in the place, and ordered champagne and desserts to be sent up to the room. He'd told the models to wait for him there and to enjoy themselves, saying that he would join them in the room after taking care of one piece of business.

In truth, Bruce had no intention of returning. He'd immediately gone back to his car and drove to his penthouse in the city. His batsuit was there, as was a computer system on which he could do research for his meeting tonight. He still had to follow up on his leads regarding the drug shipments going through the Narrows, but he didn't want to speak with the Blur unprepared.

Bruce knew that the next step he should take in dealing with the drugs was to talk to Detective Arnold Flass. He was Jim Gordon's partner, but he was also a corrupt cop working for Falcone. Assuming nothing came up, Gordon would be home in the next few hours, and Bruce could ask the Sergeant for his thoughts on Flass then. In the meantime, Bruce could look into the Blur—what tactics he used and how he might be connected to Claire Kent.

The more information Bruce could find, the easier it would be to show the Blur the risks he was taking by involving Claire.

* * *

Looking through the earliest articles on the Blur, Bruce had found trends. No one had ever seen the Blur; the reports only indicated that he was fast and that people believed he was tall. The one existing photograph of the Blur showed a person completely in focus being saved by an unclear, distorted shape. The blurriness of the image had apparently led to the name used for Metropolis' vigilante.

The articles on the Blur were usually written by Louis Lane, but there were also a few that had Claire Kent or Chloe Sullivan on the byline. Bruce uncovered that Sullivan was Lane's cousin and Claire's roommate in Metropolis. And there was another connection among these three individuals—all of them had ties to the town of Smallville.

Sullivan had moved there with her father when she was a child. Lane had visited the town in his early twenties, after he'd had a falling out with his father General Sam Lane. And Claire had lived in Smallville for nearly her entire life. Bruce might not have found the fact that they'd all lived in this farm town noteworthy, until he did a search for the place.

Smallville wasn't known for its crops—it was known for the meteor showers that had rained down upon it, once in the late 1980s and again near the start of the new millennium. In the decades following the first event, there were reports of strange occurrences throughout the town, which seemed to have been caused by exposure to the meteor rock. Bruce's searches showed that Sullivan and Claire often wrote about these unexplained phenomena in their high school newspaper.

Some of the stories seemed too outrageous to believe, but after comparing the articles to records from the local sheriff's office and the town's hospital, Bruce began to think that there might be some truth to them. There seemed to be holes in the official reports, almost as if someone either didn't want to admit what had really happened or they wanted to hide the facts by deleting the files. But despite the omissions, there was still enough information available to make Bruce wonder about this town.

There were instances with bug-people and shape-shifters, and repeatedly there were stories about a mysterious savior—someone who always managed to stop the bad guys without being seen. The articles on this savior sounded oddly similar to the current pieces that the Daily Planet ran on the Blur.

All the evidence that Bruce had found led him to believe that the Blur had come from Smallville and that Claire—along with Sullivan and Lane—had followed him to Metropolis. These people were clearly connected to one another; Bruce just wanted to know how close they were to their city's vigilante—whether the Blur was perhaps part of their group or just their idol.

A phone call interrupted Bruce's work. He answered, knowing who would be at the other end.

"Alfred," he said into the receiver.

" _Master Bruce,_ " Alfred began, " _did you purchase a hotel this evening? I have a man on the other line asking about the particulars on the transfer of ownership._ "

"It seemed like the right thing to do at the time," Bruce replied. "Besides, you were the one who told me to start acting like a billionaire."

" _I suppose I did, sir,_ " Alfred said. " _But next time, I believe I'll be more specific in my advice. A hotel does seem a bit excessive for an impulse purchase—even for a billionaire. I'll tell the gentleman he can cash the check, though._ "

"Thank you, Alfred," Bruce responded.

" _Not a problem, sir,_ " Alfred answered. " _There was one other item of note I wanted to bring to your attention. Speaking of hotels, that incident at the Ritz doesn't seem to be going away. There was Miss Kent in the city this afternoon, and according to one of the gardeners, another woman stopped by the house today asking to speak with me about it._ "

"Who was she?" Bruce asked.

" _She didn't give her name, sir, and I told the staff today to always ask for that information going forward. The gardener just said she was an average young woman with dark hair._ "

"When did she stop by the house?" Bruce questioned, curiosity now apparent in his tone.

" _It was this afternoon, sir, after I'd gone to collect you for your meeting with Earle._ "

Bruce's fingers went to the keyboard in front of him. He quickly brought up the security system for his house and accessed the footage taken today. Fast-forwarding to the afternoon, he found what he was looking for.

Claire Kent was on the monitor in front of him—with a clear timestamp to show when she'd visited. It was after their encounter in the Narrows, but before they'd met again at Wayne Tower.

She'd had enough time to make it to the train station, change her clothes, and then head to Wayne Tower; but she couldn't have made it all the way to the Palisades and back in that timeframe—not moving at the speed of a normal human.

There was only one clear explanation for it.

Claire Kent was the Blur.

Bruce knew that an argument could be made that they were two separate people and that Claire had just called in the Blur to help her travel across town, but that just didn't make sense. Why would she call in the Blur for simple, fast transport, but not call him in when she was asking questions to violent and ruthless people in the Narrows?

Bruce had wondered all day why the Blur wouldn't be there to help Claire through that dangerous situation, but now he realized he'd been wrong. The Blur had been there—just not in the form Bruce was expecting.

And all of the clues were so obvious now. Bruce had considered Claire's strong personality in the Narrows to be a striking contrast to the demeanor she displayed most of the time. But now Bruce could understand her behavior. She was using her supposed meekness to help conceal her alternate identity.

Her history also fit with the Blur's. From the records Bruce found, Claire had lived in Smallville during both meteor showers, meaning she had no doubt been exposed to whatever had caused some of the town's inhabitants to gain unique abilities. Stories of a mysterious savior in Smallville began to circulate just as Claire was entering adulthood, and her move to Metropolis coincided with the first appearances of that city's vigilante.

Bruce felt like he could've continued looking into Claire's past for hours, but he'd run out of time. He still needed to question Gordon about Flass tonight and possibly pay Flass a visit as well before his meeting with the Blur.

And unfortunately, Bruce wasn't as fast as the Blur.

* * *

It was raining when Claire returned to Gotham.

She went back before her planned meeting with the Batman and checked the places in the Narrows that she'd visited earlier in the day. She didn't hear any talk about a redhead asking impertinent questions, but she did hear a mugging going on near a diner that she'd stopped in. She quickly subdued the assailant and then left him, along with the victim, outside a police precinct.

Claire was about to head back to the Narrows when she heard a man screaming a few blocks away. It was strange, though, almost as if the sound were near the ground one second and then several stories up the next.

She arrived at the scene to find the Batman interrogating a man, but it wasn't a simple questioning. The Batman had the other man hanging upside down by a rope that was caught around the man's ankle.

She heard the Batman demand in his gravelly tone, "Do I look like a cop?"

The man's reply sounded like 'no,' but it was nearly indistinguishable from the scream he bellowed when the Batman let him fall.

Claire couldn't believe what she was seeing. The man was dropping to the ground too quickly; he was going to collide with the pavement. She jumped when the man was halfway to the ground and caught him. She pulled the rope off his ankle and landed, making sure the man was unharmed. Claire then ran a few blocks away and deposited the man on a sidewalk, before returning to where she'd left the Batman.

Claire was bothered by what he'd done. The Batman was taking things too far, and Claire felt the need to have a word with him about it.

She made it to the roof of the building before the Batman was a foot away from the ledge. He turned around and didn't seem surprised to spot her behind him. He must've seen the man he'd been interrogating disappear and knew something had happened.

She decided to confirm her suspicions about the Batman before things went any further. It would give her an advantage in this confrontation to know his identity. Using her x-ray vision, Claire looked behind the mask and saw Bruce Wayne's face on the vigilante before her.

"We need to talk," she said, using a voice that didn't sound like her own. Claire had discovered as a child that she could control her vocal cords, allowing her to manipulate how she sounded. She could imitate any voice that she heard, and she could also make it sound as if she were using a voice modulator. She'd decided to use the modulator technique tonight when speaking to the Batman.

"We do," he replied.

Claire knew that she hadn't left the other man far from this building. It wouldn't take long for him to reach the police station and alert authorities to the Batman's location.

"Not here," she said, securely grabbing the Batman. She had them at Wayne Tower in a matter of seconds. The top of the building was shaped like a pyramid, and at the base of this pyramid was an observation deck, where people could view the city from more than 100 floors up. No one was there at this time of night, so it was a good place for them to talk. There was also an overhang covering most of the deck, which helped to shelter them from the downpour.

The Batman didn't falter when they stopped moving. Most people stumbled after their first time travelling at Claire's super-speed, but the Batman managed to hold his ground—even after Claire released him and moved a few feet away from him.

"You're early," he said.

"And you're insane," Claire replied. "You were going to kill that man."

"No, I wasn't."

"I saw what was happening. He wasn't going to survive that fall."

"I had control over the situation. I could slow down or speed up how fast he was falling," the Batman answered.

"And what would you've done if the rope had snapped?"

"What?"

"If the rope you were dangling that man from had snapped, what would you have done?" Claire repeated. "You would've killed him."

"The rope could hold 500 pounds," the Batman stated, sternly. "If it had failed, I had a backup rope that I would've caught him with. I know what I'm doing."

"You're terrorizing people," Claire replied. "And for what? Some misguided quest for vengeance?"

"You don't know what you're talking about—"

"Actually, I do know, Mr. Wayne," Claire interrupted. "And even though what you went through as a child was horrible, it doesn't give you the right to brutally attack people."

She expected him to hesitate at the revelation that she knew his identity, but without missing a beat, he responded to her.

"And just because a meteor shower gave you abilities, that doesn't make you the ultimate authority on justice—and what needs to be done to accomplish it, Miss Kent."

He knew who she was. Without powers, the Batman had somehow figured out her identity. She hadn't been completely careful around him—he'd already determined that Claire Kent had some connection to the Blur, and her interactions earlier in the day with both him and his alter ego Bruce Wayne no doubt made her seem suspicious. Still, it caught her off guard for him to have made the leap to the fact that she was the Blur.

Claire didn't see a point in denying it now, though, so she continued questioning him.

"Do you really think what you're doing here is justice?" she asked.

"And what are you doing?" he replied. "You think stepping into the middle of trouble and then disappearing is going to make a difference? You think you're going to make criminals fear the consequences of their actions with what you're doing?"

"My goal isn't to scare people; it's to save them," Claire answered.

"Sometimes you need to scare people in order to save them."

"Is that how you justify hanging that man upside down from four stories up?" she demanded.

"I doubt he'll go back to working for the mob after that," he answered.

"So you really are crazy," Claire replied in disbelief over his attitude.

"At least I don't need help solving crimes," he said, reminding Claire of the real reason she was in Gotham. She was here to find out about the men who'd attacked the hotel last night, not to fight with the Batman. But now that she'd seen his methods for obtaining information firsthand, she wasn't as interested in receiving his help.

"You're right," she began, "maybe you can solve crimes your way—but that doesn't mean it's the right way. And I should've remembered that."

The Batman looked at her grimly. He might've been able to give her more details about last night, but Claire no longer thought it would be worth it. Her ways of figuring things out might take more time, but at least she could live with herself using her methods.

So Claire sped away back to her city, leaving the Batman behind in his.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Author's Note:**_ _I just wanted to repeat that I do not own the rights to any part of the DC Universe and that this chapter includes changes to scenes from_ Batman Begins _made to fit the plot of this story._

 _Thank you for reading!_

* * *

Bruce was up early the next morning, working in the lair before Alfred was even awake.

Last night, he'd obtained the information that he'd needed from Flass about Falcone's drug shipments. They were apparently stopping in the Narrows first before being sent on to the dealers. Flass had indicated that something else was contained in the drugs—something that was being removed for other purposes. Flass didn't know what that something else was or what it could do, but at least he'd given Bruce an idea of where to start looking for answers.

It was useful information, and Bruce had acquired it using the fastest means available to him—fear. He knew that fear was a powerful motivator, and the Batman was an effective tool in evoking fear in others.

Suited up as his alter ego, Bruce had grabbed Flass last night, strung him up by his ankle from a fire escape, and let the corrupt cop think that he might fall to the pavement if he didn't tell the Batman what he wanted to know.

But Bruce had kept everything under tight control. He wasn't a murderer; his intention was only to scare Flass into talking. And it had worked. Flass had revealed everything that he knew to the Batman, and Bruce now had leads that could help him figure out what was really going on with those drug shipments.

Bruce's plan had been successful—at least until the Blur had shown up. Bruce had meant to give Flass one final scare by letting him drop quickly, and just before he reached the bottom, Bruce was going to slow his descent. That way, Flass would've only felt the impact of falling a few feet. He might've been sore afterwards, but it wouldn't have killed him.

But the Blur didn't allow for that. She'd interrupted the end of Bruce's interrogation and let Flass go. And then she'd gone and questioned Bruce's methods.

Bruce knew that the Blur was nothing like the Batman, but then again, Metropolis was nothing like Gotham. The cities were like day and night to each other. Metropolis was a bright beacon of light—sunny, vibrant, and welcoming to all those who sought a city in which they could pursue their hopeful aspirations. Gotham was the opposite. Weighed down by a ceaseless economic depression, Bruce's city had become a haven for criminal activity. It felt shrouded in darkness and desperation, and it seemed as if little could be done to change that.

Yet, Bruce believed that the Batman might be able to turn the tide in Gotham. Someone like the Batman could combat the injustice running rampant in this city without giving into corruption as many members of law enforcement and the judicial system around here had. He wasn't a shining, white knight that the people should look up to; he was a nightmare, tasked with haunting the criminals of Gotham.

But that wasn't the Blur. The Blur existed to save people from moments of despair, not to create fear as the Batman did. Her tactics worked in Metropolis; she was giving that city's residents hope. Here in Gotham though, she seemed naïve and out of place. Bruce didn't care how fast or strong she might be. The Blur was ill equipped to handle crime in Gotham.

Gotham needed the Batman, no matter what the Blur might think.

"So is this really the best place you can think to spend your mornings, sir?" Alfred asked from the elevator.

Bruce had heard the motor that signaled the elevator's movement down into the batcave, but his thoughts were too tied up with the Blur and Gotham's drug shipments to bother doing anything at his butler's imminent arrival.

"Where else should I be, Alfred?" Bruce asked, sitting in front of computer screens he'd set up a few weeks before. From these monitors, he could track the activities of the criminal underworld and decide where best to use his skills as the Batman.

"Perhaps somewhere that you can see the morning sun, Master Bruce," Alfred replied, setting down a tray containing Bruce's breakfast. "This place is a bit dank for my taste," he added.

"It meets my needs," Bruce stated, grabbing the juice from the tray and continuing to type as he drank.

"Well, so long as you don't decide to live down here permanently," Alfred said, eyeing the bats sleeping on the cave's ceiling. He then inquired, "How did your meetings go last night, sir?"

"Fine," Bruce answered simply. He didn't feel like rehashing his experience with Claire Kent from last night. She didn't know what it took to survive in Gotham—let alone bring about change in this town, so it seemed pointless to repeat her arguments.

"Did you manage to convince the Blur to stop involving Miss Kent in his activities?" Alfred asked.

Bruce hadn't shared with his butler the discovery he'd made about the Blur's true identity. It wouldn't be harmful if he did. Bruce trusted Alfred with his life and with all of his secrets. One more secret wouldn't matter.

But then again, in this circumstance, it wasn't Bruce's secret that they were discussing; it was Claire's. Bruce might've found her behavior bothersome last night, but he hadn't awoken to headlines about the Batman's identity revealed.

She could've easily put together a story on a billionaire turned vigilante, but she hadn't. She'd kept his secret, so Bruce felt obliged to at least return that favor.

"Their relationship is complicated, Alfred," Bruce said. "But it doesn't matter. I doubt we'll be seeing the Blur or Claire Kent around here anytime soon."

"Very well then, sir," Alfred replied. "And the rest of your efforts last night—did they go as you intended?"

"I managed to get more information on Falcone's drug shipments," Bruce answered. "They were moving through the Narrows first, and I think I've come up with the most likely spots where they could've been sent. I'm going to check them out today."

"Very good, sir," Alfred said. "Just don't forget your umbrella. They say that we're in for another downpour later today."

"I'll keep that in mind," Bruce replied.

* * *

"So," Chloe began in a hushed voice as she sat down at her desk across from Claire, "did your leads pan out last night?"

"Not exactly," Claire replied.

"Darn," Chloe said. "I was hoping when you didn't come home that you'd found out something good."

"No such luck," Claire said. She hadn't gone back to the apartment, because she was too preoccupied to try to go to sleep. Instead, after stopping a few minor crimes in Metropolis, she went to the farm and did another sweep of her parents' home. She'd just turned down whatever information the Batman had on the attack that had seemed connected to her father, so she wanted to make sure that her family was safe until she could figure this out on her own.

Claire had her father carry a cell phone with him at all times, and her number was programmed into the device's speed-dial. That way, her father would only need to push one button to let Claire know that he needed her. Her mother's phone was set up the same way.

'Well, I'm sending you what I've found so far on the van," Chloe said, as she typed on her computer's keyboard. "Maybe we'll find something useful in this data."

More people were entering the office, so Chloe didn't say anything further that was Blur-related. They moved on to discussing the topics of the articles that they were working on. They would return to the attack on Gotham's Ritz Hotel later, after Claire had taken the time to review what Chloe had found.

Both Claire and Chloe were assigned to hotline duty that night, so Claire knew that would be the best time to talk to her friend about the attack—and what had happened last night. The Daily Planet's hotline stayed open at all hours of the day and night year-round to take calls from the public on news stories. It was one of the few media outlets that hadn't switched to an entirely automated answering service. Instead, the Planet employees were given different shifts in which they would have to answer the phone, and Claire and Chloe were scheduled for tonight.

They didn't receive that many calls late at night or early in the morning, so it wasn't too much trouble to be assigned to that shift. The building was usually empty, so Claire and Chloe could speak freely, and Claire could come and go to handle her work as the Blur without drawing questions from her co-workers.

And Claire had a good bit to tell her friend about what had occurred in Gotham. She hadn't told Chloe anything about the Batman yet, and Claire still needed to decide exactly what she was going to share about him.

She didn't have a problem telling Chloe about how brutish and arrogant the Batman was, but she still didn't feel comfortable revealing his identity to anyone else. Chloe would no doubt want to know who the man was behind the mask, but it might do her more harm than good to have that information. Claire's friend had enough burdens knowing about the Blur; Claire didn't want to cause any further problems by adding Bruce Wayne's secrets into the mix.

After debating it, Claire decided that she would tell Chloe about her encounters with the Batman, but she would leave Bruce out of the conversation. Claire thought it would be better that way.

From her recent experiences, Claire had figured out that dealing with Bruce Wayne just meant dealing with trouble.

* * *

Bruce had finally located the drop-off point in the Narrows that Falcone had been using for his drug shipments.

It had taken nearly the entire day. Bruce had visited a number of places and found reasons to scratch them off his list. Some he'd made a note to visit in the future—they weren't the place he was looking for, but the activities going on there seemed to need the Batman's attention.

Bruce's priority now, though, was the drug shipments and finding out what else was being smuggled into Gotham with them.

Once he'd found the place, Bruce suited up and prepared to investigate it more closely as the Batman. Night had fallen by that point, and it was once again raining heavily. He used his training to ignore the downpour. He'd been taught to focus on his objective and block out anything that might impede him. He also had equipment that helped him to search the building in question.

Bruce had been fortunate upon his return to Gotham to meet Lucius Fox, an employee of Wayne Enterprises who was a brilliant engineer. The man had designed the batsuit that Bruce now wore, the cape that allowed Bruce to glide through his city, and an array of other helpful tools. Bruce hadn't told Fox that he intended to use these things to become Gotham's vigilante, but Bruce had a feeling that Fox knew that he was up to something with the equipment. Fox was a clever man, and if he ever heard a description of the Batman's gear, he would no doubt know the identity of the vigilante.

But Bruce wasn't bothered by that. Fox had known Bruce's father and served on Wayne Enterprises' board before his parents had died. From other sources, Bruce had found out that Fox had shared his father's ideals about his family's company, and this left Bruce inclined to trust the man.

And Bruce already trusted Fox's equipment. Tonight, Bruce used a scope that Fox had created that had night vision and that could be adjusted to see from various angles. It allowed Bruce to have a clear view of the apartment he needed to enter despite the darkness.

Bruce was using the device while hanging from the side of the building one floor below the apartment, but then he heard a noise to his left.

Normally, Bruce would make himself disappear one way or another if he thought someone was going to see him as the Batman without him wanting them to, but Bruce saw that it was just a boy, climbing out of his apartment's window onto a fire escape.

The boy's eyes went wide with wonder, as he spotted the Batman on the neighboring ledge. "It's you, isn't it? Everybody's been talking about you," he said. The boy's face and tone then became sad, as he added, "The other kids won't believe me."

Bruce thought about the boy's comments. This child and others were clearly discussing the Batman. A masked man who went around beating up bad guys would probably be an interesting subject for children, but Bruce couldn't help but think how that wasn't his intention.

He wasn't the Blur—out to save people rather than scare them, as Claire had described. His plan had been to terrify the criminals of Gotham into changing their ways, not to be a topic of stories to entertain children.

But the boy before him looked hopeful the moment he realized that he'd seen the Batman, and Bruce didn't feel that he could deny a child hope, no matter how tough and unyielding he believed the Batman should be. He clicked a button on his scope. It folded itself into a compact shape, and he tossed it to the boy.

Bruce then launched himself onto the balcony of the apartment he'd been watching. He didn't need to be working on a gentler side to the Batman right now; instead, he needed to be figuring out what Falcone's men were really doing here.

Looking around the darkened apartment, he found stuffed rabbits on a chair. Falcone's men had been shipping drugs inside toys, and the way these rabbits had been cut open suggested that they had been part of the process. Whatever they had carried, though, appeared to have already been removed.

Suddenly, the door to the apartment opened, and a man carrying a flashlight entered followed by two other men. Bruce stepped further into the shadows so that they didn't see him. From where he stood, though, he could clearly see the outlines of the other men. The man in front walked closer to a window, and for a moment, a neon sign outside illuminated him.

Seeing his face, Bruce knew that the leader of this group was Dr. Jonathan Crane. Bruce had been looking for information on Crane's connections to Falcone, and tonight it seemed like Bruce would have the opportunity to gain that information directly from the source.

Crane issued an order to the others. "Get rid of all traces," he said.

In response, the other two men began pouring gasoline throughout the apartment, clearly intending to light the place on fire. One of the men went toward the bathroom, and Bruce followed him. Once the man was on his own, Bruce knocked him out. The hit made noise, though, and Crane disappeared behind a wall while the third man used his lighter to try to see what had caused the disturbance.

Bruce went after the man with the lighter first. If he dropped it after they'd spread that gasoline, then the apartment would go up in flames quickly, along with any evidence of the activities of Falcone and Crane. Bruce moved to knock the man unconscious and grab the lighter in the same movement. He was nearly successful, until Crane reentered the space.

The doctor now wore a mask, and the second he was near Bruce, he released some sort of gas into the air. Bruce hadn't considered Crane to be a real threat, and that had been his mistake. The doctor might be physically weak, but he was still clever. Whatever he had just dosed Bruce with felt powerful, as its effects already seemed to be taking hold of him.

Bruce felt disoriented. Everything in the room became distorted. Crane was saying something to him, but all Bruce could perceive at that moment was that bats appeared to be coming out of the doctor's mouth.

The other man was somewhere on Crane's right. Bruce could somehow tell that. He thought he saw the man raise a gun, but his mind was jumping back and forth between the present situation and the night his parents were murdered. He didn't know if the man in front of him had the gun, or if it was just the memory of that night.

Suddenly, it became clear, though. The sound of the bullet leaving the gun was unmistakably part of the present, but Bruce just couldn't pull himself together enough to do anything about it. Crane's poison was too strong.

A lucid thought passed through Bruce's mind in that moment. It was a memory of Fox telling him about the limitations of the suit. It could withstand any gunfire other than a straight shot, and somehow Bruce knew that was what he'd just encountered. Perhaps the pain of the bullet passing through him helped to reinforce that, but Bruce didn't know for sure.

He didn't know anything with any degree of certainty now other than he had to leave this place. He'd managed to back himself up to the balcony just as Crane was approaching him with a lighter. With whatever faculties he had left, Bruce grabbed his grappling gun and fired it upward.

Looking around once he'd landed, Bruce was still seeing random images and couldn't make sense of his surroundings. He was in trouble, and he didn't have many options.

The one thing he could think to do was to tap the button on his earpiece. He didn't wait for an answer. He just began shouting, "Alfred! Alfred! Poisoned…Alfred!"

* * *

Alfred hoped every time that he answered the private line that Bruce would just need something trivial—a new suit dropped off somewhere, a change to his morning meal, or something else that wouldn't mean that Bruce was in danger.

But tonight, Alfred knew there was trouble. He couldn't make out everything that Bruce was saying, but how incoherent he sounded was worrying. Alfred ran down to the batcave to pull up the tracking system in Bruce's suit and saw that he was deep within the Narrows.

Even if Alfred broke every speed limit between here and there, it would still take a half hour to reach him, and Alfred didn't know what sort of trouble Bruce was in. If he'd been attacked by someone, the attacker could still be nearby and hurt Bruce again before Alfred could make it there.

Alfred would go after Bruce, though. He didn't care how far away it was or what evils he might face there, Alfred would go and help the man he'd been entrusted to protect. He just worried that he would be too late.

Another option suddenly sprung into Alfred's mind—a faster option. He doubted Bruce would approve, but at this point, Alfred didn't care.

He had to try something, so he looked up the number and dialed it.

* * *

"Daily Planet. This is Claire Kent," Claire said into the receiver for the tenth time tonight. The man on the other end proceeded to tell her about a discovery he'd made in the park.

"Big Foot, you say?" she asked, speaking slowly as if she were taking notes. All sorts of people called into the Planet's hotline, some with more valid tips than others. "He's living under the bridge near the center of the park? Okay, we'll look into it. Thank you for calling."

"That's the third time that guy has called this month!" Chloe exclaimed in disbelief as Claire hung up the phone.

"Well, if someone else corroborates his story, then I'll look into it," Claire said.

"Who else is going to call about Big Foot?" Chloe asked.

"What? You mean the queen of the 'Wall of Weird' actually doubts the existence of something unexplained?" Claire asked teasingly. In high school, Chloe had kept records on any strange phenomena that occurred in their hometown of Smallville, and she'd called her collection the Wall of Weird.

Chloe didn't maintain that wall any longer, but she still kept tabs on anything she considered bizarre. She just stored her files digitally now, instead of out in the open for anyone to see.

"Hey," Chloe began, "I might've accepted that aliens walk among us, and that anything crazy that can happen will happen—including the Blur and the Batman getting into a fight about who's the better vigilante, but that doesn't mean I'm going to start believing that insane guy about Big Foot."

"Fair enough," Claire replied, smiling at her friend's comments. Earlier in the evening, she had filled Chloe in on the details of her trips to Gotham from her first run-in with the Batman when she was Claire Kent to her subsequent discussion with him as the Blur. She only omitted the part about Bruce Wayne's involvement.

Chloe had insisted that Claire had done the right thing—that they would figure out what had happened at the Ritz Hotel without the Batman's information.

While Claire appreciated Chloe's confidence, that support wouldn't stop Claire from joking with her friend about the frequent Big Foot caller. "You know," Claire began, "you'll really be missing out on the scoop of the century if you're wrong about that one."

Chloe rolled her eyes in response, as Claire's phone once again began to ring.

"Daily Planet. This is Claire Kent," she answered.

" _There's trouble in Gotham_ ," the voice on the other end said, and Claire knew this wasn't a prank call. She recognized the voice immediately.

" _At 325 West 87_ _th_ _Street in the Narrows,_ " the voice continued, sounding desperate. " _Swift help is needed._ "

Claire knew it was the voice of Alfred Pennyworth, butler to Bruce Wayne. Bruce—or his alter ego Batman—wouldn't call Claire for help. He'd made it clear the day before that he wasn't impressed with her and that he had everything in his city under control. But apparently, his butler didn't feel the same way. Why else would he call Claire?

Whatever it was, Claire felt that it couldn't be good. She didn't doubt that help was needed if she was receiving this call.

Claire quickly jotted down the address and moved the receiver away from her face. She needed to have her story straight. If anyone looked at the call log from tonight and saw a Gotham number on her phone, she needed to be able to explain it—and to show that the Planet had done something about it. She handed the paper to Chloe and said, "Call the Gotham Police Department. Tell them that for some reason, our hotline received a tip about possible criminal activity going on at that address. Tell them that the tip sounded credible."

"Claire, what's going on?" Chloe asked.

"I can't explain it all now, Chloe. Just trust me on this one."

Chloe nodded, and Claire put the receiver back to her mouth.

"Help is on the way."


	8. Chapter 8

_**Author's Note:**_ _I will be borrowing a few things from_ Man of Steel _going forward in the story._

 _I hope you enjoy and, as always, thank you for reading._

* * *

Claire ran to the location that Alfred had provided.

Through the downpour, she could see that an apartment was on fire within the building. Using her x-ray vision, Claire made sure that there were no people inside the rooms and that the neighboring apartments were clear.

With no civilians in immediate danger, Claire began looking for the Batman. Her ears and eyes were open. Beyond the falling rain, she could hear labored breathing and grunts of pain. Her eyes followed the sound. Batman was on the roof of the burning building.

Claire used her super-speed to reach him, and she could tell that Alfred had been right—the Batman needed help. He'd been shot. The bullet had passed through his left shoulder, and the wound was bleeding badly.

There seemed to be more than that injury, though. He was doubled over on the ground—out in the open—shivering. His pulse was racing, and his eyes appeared unable to focus. They were jumping around—reacting to everything in the area. But it wasn't as if he was just casing his environment; his reactions suggested that he was afraid of what he was seeing.

"Batman," Claire said as she approached him, trying to have him focus on her. His face turned towards her, and the terror in his eyes worsened. He tried to move away from her, but in his state, he didn't go far.

Claire crouched down slowly, attempting to appear unthreatening. "Batman," she repeated. "I'm here to help."

There was still no sign that he recognized her, and his symptoms were becoming worse.

Claire scanned the area. She neither saw nor heard anyone approaching. Everyone nearby was too busy with the fire to notice two vigilantes on the roof.

She decided to try a new approach. To look more normal in front of him, Claire pulled off her mask, making her soaking wet hair come loose from its bun in the process. Gently, she moved toward the Batman again and tried once more to calm him.

"Bruce," she said softly. "I'm not going to hurt you."

For a moment, his eyes seemed aware again, and he managed to speak.

"Poisoned….Home…Need to..." he said struggling to form the words.

"You're going to be okay, Bruce," Claire said reassuringly. "I'm going to get you out of this."

She quickly wrapped his uninjured arm around her shoulder and sped him away from the Narrows.

* * *

After hanging up with Claire Kent, Alfred had run up to the garage. She'd said that help was on the way, but Alfred couldn't be certain of that. If Claire couldn't reach the Blur or if she failed to convince him to help, then Bruce would still be in trouble. Alfred couldn't just sit around and wait to see what would happen. He needed to make sure that Bruce was safe.

Alfred started up the Rolls and pressed a button to open up one of the doors to the garage. He moved his foot toward the gas pedal just as two figures appeared in the doorway before him. They seemed to show up out of nowhere, and Alfred slammed on the brakes at the sight of them.

One of them was clearly Bruce. He was wearing Batman's cape and armor, but something was wrong. He was leaning heavily on the other figure.

Alfred rushed out of the car and moved to help Bruce. As he approached, Alfred took a closer look at the other person, whom he'd assumed was the Blur. This individual was dressed in black and had obviously helped Bruce escape the situation that he'd landed in, but Alfred wasn't expecting the Blur to be a woman—nor was he expecting to recognize Metropolis' vigilante.

"Miss Kent?" Alfred asked, surprised to see the female reporter here.

"He's been shot," she said, her tone abrupt. She set Bruce against a nearby wall, and in the blink of an eye, the garage doors were shut, blocking out the rain, and then she was back to Bruce.

"And poisoned," she added.

Bruce began to slide down the wall, and Alfred assisted him to the ground. The sight of Bruce like this was disturbing. Alfred knew that his employer was trying to make a difference in Gotham and that such an endeavor would be dangerous, but seeing the consequences firsthand was unnerving.

Alfred needed to distract himself with something else as he assessed Bruce's wounds; it was the only way he would make it through this task. "You're the Blur?" he questioned, as Claire crouched down on the other side of Bruce.

She looked at him somewhat taken aback. "I thought you knew," she replied. "Bruce knew, and then you called me asking for help. I figured he told you."

"Master Wayne understands the importance of secrets," Alfred said. "Although he doesn't keep many from me."

"He's not going to be able to keep his secrets for much longer," she said in response to a pained groan from Bruce. "I'm not sure how much I can help him with these injuries, and he's getting worse. I should've just taken him to the hospital."

"No," Alfred replied. "If you'd brought him to hospital like this, they would've locked him away for being the Batman."

"Okay," she said. "So we need to change his clothes, and then take him to the hospital."

"Not with the gunshot wound," Alfred stated. "Those are always reported to the police. And someone out there knows that they shot the Batman tonight. It wouldn't take much work on their part to go through everyone with a gunshot wound in hospital tonight and figure out which one is the Batman."

Alfred removed his jacket and used it to apply pressure to the wound before saying, "I'll do what I can for him here."

"That may not be enough," Claire replied.

"I'm not taking the Batman from him," Alfred said ardently. "I lost him for seven years, and that monster he created was the only thing that brought him back here. If he's arrested for being the Batman or if someone else finds out his identity because of a choice that I make, he wouldn't forgive me for that. I'm not losing him that way, Miss Kent—not when I've just gotten him back. I'll help him with what I have here."

"Fine," Claire said, sounding exasperated. "Help me get the armor off."

"What?" Alfred questioned.

"If you want to treat him here, then I'll do what I can to help you with that," Claire answered. "At least with the gunshot wound. I don't know what they poisoned him with, so I don't know if I can help you there."

"What can you do about the gunshot wound?" Alfred asked, as he worked to remove the cape and lay Bruce flat on the floor. Alfred's plan had been to stitch up the injury as best he could to help it heal.

"It looks like he's bleeding internally from it," Claire replied, making Alfred more anxious about the wound's severity. He still didn't want to take Bruce anywhere for medical treatment, but he worried whether he would be skilled enough to help Bruce on his own.

"Are you certain about that?" he questioned, wondering how she could know.

"I can see things that other people can't," she answered, as they removed the chest piece of the armor. "I can also do things that other people can't."

She looked at the wound intently. "This is going to hurt, and it's going to leave one hell of a scar. " She then turned her gaze toward Alfred. "Are you sure you don't want me to take him to a hospital?"

"No hospitals. Do what you can for him here, Miss Kent," Alfred replied.

Claire nodded and moved so that she was directly above Bruce's shoulder. She pressed down against his arm and his chest, and Bruce cried out in pain in response.

"Help me keep him steady," Claire said, and Alfred moved to keep Bruce's legs and other arm restrained.

Alfred watched her closely and was surprised to see what appeared to be fiery lasers shoot from her eyes. Bruce released a sickening yell during the experience, but it seemed to be working. After a few moments of aiming her vision inside the wound, she moved to the exterior and sealed his skin back together.

"That takes care of the entrance wound," Claire said. "We need to flip him over, and then I can deal with the exit."

The wound on his back was easier. Bruce had passed out from the pain or the poison—or both—at some point, and Claire was able to quickly seal the exit wound without screams or struggles.

They flipped him back over, and Claire said, "That stopped the bleeding, but his pulse is still faster than it should be. We need to figure out what to do about the poison."

"He was nearly incoherent when he contacted me," Alfred said. "So this poison clearly impacts one's mind."

"He didn't recognize me when I found him either, and he seemed scared of everything. Is there a drug that can heighten someone's fears?" Claire asked.

"Possibly," Alfred answered. "That and the quickened pulse give us some idea of the symptoms. If I had a sample of it—to see what it looks like, that would also help to identify it."

"There was an apartment on fire when I got to the address," Claire said. "If I had to guess, I'd say that was where Bruce was when this happened to him. The apartment was burning pretty badly, though, almost as if someone had used some kind of accelerant before they lit the place up. I doubt any samples of the poison survived the flames."

"Well," Alfred began, "if I can't determine it from researching the symptoms, we might need to try something else then. In the meantime, I'll get him upstairs so he's more comfortable."

Alfred moved to pick up Bruce, but Claire stayed his hand. She wrapped her arm around Bruce and easily lifted him.

"Which room?" she asked.

"Take the left path on the main staircase," Alfred replied. "Then take the first right. The master bedroom is at the end of that hallway."

"I'll see you up there," Claire said before speeding away.

* * *

Bruce was groggy. His limbs felt heavy, and it was difficult to bring his mind into wakefulness.

At first, he didn't know where he was. The last thing he remembered was the apartment in the Narrows where Falcone had been routing his drug shipments. Bruce had been investigating the place when Crane had arrived, and Bruce had managed to take out one of his henchman. After that, though, his memories became hazy.

Bruce didn't know what had happened to Crane or how he'd escaped the apartment. He had a vague memory of fire, and then a strange feeling coursed through his body. It felt like fear.

It reminded Bruce of sensations he'd experienced during his training with the League of Shadows. The League was a group of skilled assassins, led by a man named Ra's Al Ghul. They had brought Bruce into their fold and instructed him on their methods, but Bruce couldn't become one of them. They wanted him to kill—and that was a line that Bruce wouldn't cross. He wasn't a murderer.

Despite that difference of opinion, though, the League had taught Bruce useful lessons, many of which he now employed during his nightly efforts as the Batman. One of those lessons involved Bruce facing his fears. To immerse himself in the process, Bruce had to inhale a drug that brought his fears to the forefront of his mind.

What Bruce had experienced in the Narrows was eerily similar to the effects of the drug used in the League's training, and somehow Bruce had survived both instances. Yet, while Bruce could recall what it took to make it through the League's trial, his memory of what took place in the Narrows had still not become clear.

He felt his surroundings. He was on a soft surface, and there was a sheet on top of him. This was his bed, not a jail cell or drug den like he was expecting after his run-in with Crane and his men.

His location was confirmed by the familiar sound of swift feet walking around the room followed by a sudden light emerging from behind opening curtains. It was blinding—and painful when combined with the lingering effects of Crane's poison. Only his butler would subject to him to such treatment after he'd just had to deal with the criminal underworld.

"Alfred," Bruce managed to say. His voice was rough from dryness and lack of use, but he needed more information on what had transpired. "How long was I out?" he asked.

"Two days," Alfred replied, with a somber look on his face. "It's your birthday. Many happy returns," he said, lacking enthusiasm, as he moved to sit at the foot of Bruce's bed. He then passed Bruce a glass of water to which he'd added a pain reliever.

Bruce drank down the liquid quickly. It had a bitter taste, but it helped his parched throat. Raising the glass to his lips, though, made Bruce fully aware of his other ailments. His shoulder was burning in pain, and a vision passed through his mind of a man aiming a gun at him. He'd been shot, just after Crane had poisoned him.

Crane's poison—that had to be what was passing through the Narrows within Falcone's drug shipments. It would explain what Crane was doing in that apartment and why he was supervising the destruction of the evidence.

Bruce was experiencing a moment of clarity, as he shrugged off the last of that toxic haze. He needed to brainstorm on what Crane and Falcone might be planning with this drug, so he started by considering what he knew about it aloud.

"I've felt these effects before," Bruce began, "but this was so much more potent. It was some kind of hallucinogen, weaponized in aerosol form."

"You have been hanging out in the wrong clubs, Mr. Wayne," a voice interrupted from across the room.

Bruce had once again not been minding his surroundings. His former teacher from the League, Henri Ducard, would have been disappointed in Bruce and his failure to notice that someone else was in the room

That other individual was Lucius Fox, and he had no doubt heard what Bruce had said about the drug. Bruce's words hadn't sounded anything like what a playboy billionaire would say, and Lucius had clearly been in the room while Bruce had been recovering from the effects of Crane's poison. Given those facts, Bruce assumed that the other man had to know by now about Bruce's alternate identity. He already knew about the equipment that Bruce had borrowed from Wayne Enterprises, so it probably wasn't too surprising for Lucius to learn the truth about Bruce.

The question that entered Bruce's mind now, though, was why was Lucius in Wayne Manor. Even if he had guessed about Bruce's nightly activities, Bruce doubted that Alfred would just let him up here.

Alfred must have noticed the questioning look in Bruce's eyes, as he explained, "I called Mr. Fox when your condition worsened after the first day."

Lucius moved closer and elaborated on what had happened. "I analyzed your blood, isolating the receptor compounds and the protein-based catalysts."

Bruce had felt like his head was becoming clearer until Lucius had spoken. The science behind curing the poison seemed a bit too much for Bruce to process so soon after waking.

"Am I meant to understand any of that?" Bruce asked honestly.

"Not at all," Lucius replied bluntly. "I just wanted you to know how hard it was. Bottom line: I synthesized an antidote."

That was what Bruce needed to hear. If he was right and Crane's drug was being shipped into the city, then someone might be planning on using it as a weapon to harm the citizens of Gotham. Bruce needed to be able to stop that.

"Could you make more?" he asked, wanting a means to protect his city.

"You planning on gassing yourself again, Mr. Wayne?" Lucius asked.

Knowing that no sane person would want to endure what he had gone through twice, Bruce couldn't help but offer a smart comment in reply, "Well, you know how it is, Mr. Fox. You're out at night looking for kicks, someone's passing around the weaponized hallucinogens."

Lucius smiled at Bruce's remark and said, "I'll bring what I have. The antidote should inoculate you for now." He then added, "You might also want to know that I took the liberty of repairing your suit while I was here. If you do feel a need to get yourself into further trouble, at least your armor's now fully reinforced."

"Thank you, Mr. Fox," Bruce said. "For everything."

"You're welcome, Mr. Wayne," Lucius replied before offering a goodbye to Alfred and turning to leave the room.

Once Bruce knew he was alone with his butler, he said, "So you decided to tell Mr. Fox about me?"

"And I'm not apologizing for it," Alfred answered plainly. "You weren't doing well, so I could either inform Mr. Fox or the doctors at Gotham General. I thought you would prefer Lucius, especially given that he practically knew your secret already."

"You made the right call, Alfred," Bruce said. After a moment of silence, he added, "I owe you my thanks too."

"Don't thank me yet, sir," Alfred replied, as he retrieved the empty glass from Bruce and stood up from the bed. "There is one other thing that you need to know about."

"What is that?" Bruce asked, suddenly feeling on edge. Alfred had said that he'd been unconscious for two days. What if something had happened during that time—something the Batman could've stopped if he hadn't let his guard down around Crane?

Before Bruce could contemplate the possible trouble any further, Alfred continued, "There was another person that I asked for help from when you called me."

Alfred then removed his cell phone from his pocket and began dialing a number. Holding the phone up to his ear, he said, "It's me. When you have a moment, could you stop by the house? There's been—"

Alfred's next words were cut off by a knock on Bruce's door. "Come in!" his butler shouted.

"Hey Al," the newcomer said warmly, after opening the door and entering the room.

Bruce knew who it was immediately; he'd had his suspicions the moment Alfred said he'd called someone else after his ordeal with Crane. Seeing the woman in the dull gray suit and thick glasses before him just confirmed his theory.

She stopped near the foot of the bed and eyed Bruce before she said, "I see that your boy's awake."

"He is," Alfred replied. "And he has you to thank for it."

Bruce now wondered what had really transpired while he was poisoned. His butler interrupted his thoughts, though, as he said, "Master Wayne, I trust you remember Miss Kent?"

Bruce remembered her. Of course he did. The identity of the troublesome vigilante from Metropolis was something that he was unlikely to forget, but he also knew that his last conversation with her hadn't ended well.

Now Bruce just needed to know what she was doing in his house.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Author's Note:** As always, thank you for reading!_

* * *

"Miss Kent," Bruce said, sounding guarded.

"Mr. Wayne," Claire replied, as she observed the state of the man on the bed before her.

He wasn't what Claire would call healthy, but he was in better shape than most people would be in after having been shot only two days ago, let alone poisoned.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Fine," Bruce answered plainly. He was clearly trying to hide from her how much pain he was in, even though Claire could tell.

The way he forced himself to sit up without putting too much pressure on his left shoulder was one giveaway.

"Sorry about the shoulder," Claire said, responding to the movement and making Bruce realize he'd been favoring it. He then attempted to ignore the pain caused by sitting up straight and disregard the wound, but Claire noticed the way his body and breathing tensed at the effort.

"You shouldn't strain yourself," she said, trying to put Bruce at ease, but that just seemed to frustrate him more about his current condition. Claire wasn't going to tolerate his stubbornness, though. He was human, and he had to recognize his limits. "Listen, that was a bad injury. You're lucky you didn't bleed out before I got there, and now you're going to have to give yourself time to heal."

"Bleed out before you got there?" Bruce repeated, a confused look on his face.

"Miss Kent retrieved you from the Narrows," Alfred said. "When you called, it sounded as if you needed immediate help. It would've taken me too much time to reach you, so I tried to enlist the help of the fastest person I knew of on the planet."

"Al was expecting me to call in the Blur," Claire said. "He wasn't expecting me to be the Blur."

"Al?" Bruce said, questioning the name that Claire called his butler.

Alfred ignored Bruce's comment and continued to explain what had happened, "Miss Kent brought you back here and saved your life. You should be thanking her."

"That's all right, Al," Claire replied. "I'm not in this business looking for thank yous. I'm just trying to keep people safe—and out of trouble." She sent a disapproving look towards Bruce at her last remark. He actively pursued trouble as the Batman, and his current injuries were proof that he wasn't interested in keeping himself safe.

"Well, it's worth repeating that Master Bruce was fortunate to have your help the other night," Alfred said. "And Gotham's been fortunate to have your help the last few nights as well."

"What do you mean?" Bruce asked.

"Just because you were out of commission the last few days, sir, doesn't mean that crime stopped happening in the city," Alfred replied.

"So the Blur's been helping out in Gotham the last two days?" Bruce asked, sounding bothered.

"Is that a problem, sir? I thought you would be glad to hear that the city didn't fall into chaos while you were unconscious."

"It's not that, Alfred," Bruce replied. "To have the Blur start showing up in Gotham because the Batman is no longer stopping criminals—"

"The Blur hasn't been showing up," Claire interrupted. She could guess what Bruce was trying to say. He didn't want anyone to think that the Batman was gone or somehow weak and reliant upon others. That might undermine what the Batman stood for in Gotham. "We figured that you wouldn't want whoever tried to kill you thinking that they'd been successful or to have anyone else thinking that the Batman had left Gotham," Claire explained. "So I've been borrowing the cape and making the bad guys think that they've been stopped by the Batman."

"You shouldn't have been doing that," Bruce said.

"Well, you weren't exactly conscious enough to have a say in the matter," Claire replied.

"You aren't the Batman," Bruce stated.

"Maybe I don't have the Batman's winning personality," Claire said. "But I do have an easier time stopping criminals without getting myself nearly killed."

"But I'm guessing you still haven't figured out that Lex Luthor was behind the attack at the hotel the other night," Bruce retorted.

Claire was somewhat surprised at that revelation. Of course, the thought had crossed her mind that Lex could be responsible, but none of the evidence she and Chloe had found pointed to him.

"Lex had motive," Claire began. "But what proof is there that he had anything to do with it?"

"There's nothing that would stick in court," Bruce replied. "Luthor was too careful for that, but there are other sources of information."

"What good do those other sources do me if Lex can't be charged with anything?" Claire asked.

"That's why there's a need for other means of justice," Bruce answered.

"Your kind of justice, you mean?" Claire asked.

Bruce didn't respond, but his silence was a clear enough answer.

Claire shook her head in disbelief before stating, "I'm just going to have to keep a closer eye on Lex. That's the only solution here. Unless…"

Claire paused for a moment. Bruce wasn't the most helpful person. He was smart, and from what she could tell, he was a decent detective, given the way he could track down criminals without any special abilities. But just because he had those skills didn't mean that he would be willing to share with her the information he'd gathered about the other night. Still, he'd told her about Lex—maybe he could provide just a few more details.

"Do you know what happened to the driver of the getaway van?" she asked. "If I could find him, maybe I could convince him to testify about Lex's involvement."

"That's unlikely," Bruce replied. "That man—and the other members of his crew—they were all just Luthor's puppets. They had no idea who was pulling their strings, because Luthor had no direct involvement. He put at least a half-dozen middlemen between himself and the crime."

"But there has to be a trail, right? Something has to lead back to Lex," Claire said.

"Three of the men that would've been part of that trail met untimely ends soon after the attack," Bruce answered. "That was where things stood over two days ago. I'm not sure how many more of them are gone now."

"So I've got nothing?" Claire asked, sounding defeated.

"Luthor's unlikely to go after your father again. If he'd been killed the other night—a seemingly random victim during the attack, then maybe Luthor could've gotten away with it," Bruce replied. "But now, if your father is targeted a second time, the authorities will think it's more than coincidence. They'll start looking for someone with motive. Luthor might try something—he might try to arrange some sort of accident for your father, but it's a risk. And I doubt that Luthor will think that the reward is worth it in this case."

"And so what are you saying?" Claire asked. "That I should just sit back and hope for the best?"

"Isn't that your normal approach?" Bruce questioned sarcastically. "When you're out there stopping traffic violations and saving kittens from trees, don't you just hope for the best?"

"I do whatever I can to help people in need," Claire asserted. "And by the way, the last animal I saved—it was a bat I had to pull off a burning building. I didn't hope for the best there. I just did what I had to in order to save your life."

"I never asked for your help," Bruce replied.

"No, you didn't, but do you think you would've survived the other night without someone's help? You're an ordinary person in a costume, and you're going to get yourself killed out there delivering your form of justice. You realize that, don't you?" Claire posed seriously.

"And the same doesn't apply to you?" Bruce questioned. "No matter how fast you might be, don't you think that one day something will catch up to you?"

"You clearly don't know what I'm capable of," Claire replied.

Claire's phone vibrated, stopping her from continuing her arguments. Bruce looked as if he had something more to say, but Claire wasn't interested. She looked at her phone to see that Chloe was calling, and Claire answered without hesitation.

"Yes?" Claire said.

" _Where are you?_ " Chloe demanded.

"Out of town."

" _Are you anywhere near Alaska?_ " Chloe asked.

"No, I'm not near Alaska," Claire replied, wondering where Chloe's questions were leading. She looked up to see both Bruce and Alfred staring at her, curiosity apparent on their faces.

" _Are you near a television?_ "

"No, I'm not near a…" Claire began, as she looked around Bruce's room. "Hold on," she added.

There wasn't a television in plain sight, but with a closer look, Claire noticed one concealed within a piece of furniture. A mechanism appeared to be in place to raise and lower the television as needed, most likely with a remote control. Claire didn't take time to locate the device; instead, she pulled up on the top of the furniture, and the television was lifted into view.

"Okay," Claire said. "What am I looking for?"

" _Any major news network,_ " Chloe answered.

The first channel that showed up on the screen had the story that Chloe had to be calling about.

" _If you are just now joining us,_ " the newscaster began, " _we have a breaking story off the coast of Alaska. There has been an explosion at the Bright Arctic oil rig, the cause of which remains unknown. The Coast Guard has been evacuating the workers from the rig, but dozens have jumped into the water to escape the flames and are struggling to make it boats that have gathered nearby._ "

The screen cut to footage of the platform ablaze, and Claire watched as several men leapt from the rig into the ocean hundreds of feet below.

The reporter continued, " _We have also received word that men may still be trapped inside the platform. As the flames intensify, it is believed that the rig will become more unstable, making it more difficult for the Coast Guard to reach the remaining workers. So far it seems that the worst of the damage has been confined to the platform itself. There is no word yet of how large an oil spill will result from the damage, but we will keep you posted with further developments._ "

"Do we know how many people are out there?" Claire asked.

" _Reports are saying that about a hundred people are in the water, trying to make it to the boats,_ " Chloe replied. " _And that there could be at least eight people trapped inside the platform._ "

"I'm on it," Claire said, ending the call. She turned to see Bruce and Alfred still staring at her, looking concerned. "I guess we're going to have to save the rest of this conversation for another day," she said to Bruce.

"Miss Kent," Alfred interjected. "You're not considering going out there, are you? You may be strong and fast, but that seems like a dangerous situation out in the middle of the ocean."

"I'm stronger and faster than you might think, Al," Claire replied. "And I have to at least try to help those people."

"Miss Kent," Bruce began with a serious tone to his voice. "Be careful."

Claire had been expecting some sort of sharp, critical comment from Bruce, not concern.

"You too, Mr. Wayne," she replied. "Try to keep yourself out of trouble and let your wounds heal."

"I can't make any promises," Bruce said.

Claire rolled her eyes, and then turned to the butler. "Take care of yourself, Al, and call me if you need anything."

"Thank you, Miss Kent," Alfred replied. "For everything."

"It's what I'm here for," Claire said, before running out of the house, headed for a change of clothes and then Alaska.

* * *

Watching Claire practically disappear from the room, Bruce knew why they called her the Blur. He'd seen her use her speed before, but seeing it in his brightly lit room made her swiftness that much more apparent.

"Well, sir," Alfred began. "I'm finding it difficult to believe how rude you were to Miss Kent just now. You were raised to behave better than that. Perhaps that poison somehow impaired your manners?"

"I told her to be careful, Alfred," Bruce replied.

"Yes, but only after you argued with her," Alfred said. "And you never thanked her for saving your life."

"She said she didn't want thank yous," Bruce retorted.

"If someone gets you out of a burning drug den in the middle of the Narrows, stops the internal bleeding from a bullet wound you received, and then manages to bring you home in one piece, then the least you could do is say thank you to that person," Alfred stated.

Bruce wondered what Alfred meant about Claire stopping the bleeding. Had she used her speed to stitch up the wound quickly? His fingers went to his sore shoulder. He didn't feel stitches, but rather an indentation in his skin, which made him even more puzzled. Bruce needed answers.

"Alfred," he began. "How did Claire stop the bleeding?"

"She has more gifts than speed and strength," Alfred said. "What she did to that bullet wound—it was unlike anything I'd seen before. Thin beams of light came out of her eyes, like lasers, and she cauterized the wound with them."

Bruce was now curious about what else Claire might be able to do. He'd been worried before about the Blur's speed. Someone who could move that quickly could cause serious harm if they chose to. Knowing that Claire Kent was the person behind the Blur had eased some of Bruce's concern. She was a do-gooder, and Bruce doubted that she would intentionally use her abilities for any ill purpose.

But Bruce also knew that everyone had a weakness, and he could guess one of Claire's immediately—her family. All someone would have to do would be to threaten her parents, and who knew what they might be able to force Claire to do. And the fact that Claire had more abilities than her enhanced speed and strength just meant that the damage she could cause might be worse than Bruce could imagine.

While Bruce knew that he needed to deal with Crane and his poison, he also felt a need to find out more about Claire. She was powerful and could perhaps one day pose a threat. If that day ever came, Bruce needed to be ready for it. He needed to know what Alfred had learned about her over the last few days and figure out the extent of her abilities.

"Alfred," Bruce began after thinking about what had stood out during Claire's visit. "How did Claire know about the TV in the cabinet? Did you have it on while she was here?"

"No, sir," Alfred replied. "I imagine it's just one of her gifts, though. The other night when she brought you here, she knew I was in the garage. She didn't go to the front door; she just went straight to the garage door I had open. She said that she could see what other people couldn't, so perhaps she has some special sort of vision."

"Maybe she just saw through the mask," Bruce muttered, wondering at how Claire had figured out his identity.

"What was that, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked.

"Nothing, Alfred," Bruce replied. "Did she tell you anything else about what she can do?"

"No, sir," Alfred answered. "And I didn't ask. I was just grateful that she showed up and saved you from the trouble you'd gotten yourself into."

The doorbell then rang, stopping Bruce from asking further questions.

"That would be the caterers," Alfred said. "They're here to set up for your party tonight."

"I don't want a party, Alfred," Bruce said. "I need to get back to work."

"You mean the Batman needs to get back to work," Alfred retorted. "Well, sir, in my view, the Batman can't exist without Bruce Wayne, and Bruce Wayne needs to act like a normal human being from time to time. And as far as I'm concerned, a normal human being would have a party on their birthday—whether you want one or not."

Alfred moved to the bedroom door before continuing, "Now, I suggest you get yourself up and dressed and ready for this evening. I'll see to the people downstairs."

Bruce watched as Alfred walked into the hallway and closed the door behind him, leaving Bruce on his own. His robe was near the foot of his bed. He grabbed it, put it on, and decided to head to the batcave. Bruce knew what Alfred was trying to say, but Gotham needed the Batman.

Bruce had spent two days unconscious, and even if the Blur had been helping out during that time, it still meant that he hadn't been doing what he could to save his city. And the real Batman needed to be out there.

He knew where to start. Jonathan Crane had been given a brief reprieve while Bruce had been recovering, but now the doctor had to be dealt with. Neither Claire nor Alfred had mentioned Crane, so Bruce could only assume that they hadn't discovered who had poisoned him—or what else Crane might be planning. Bruce needed to head to Arkham and have a chat with the doctor more than he needed a birthday party.

Bruce was midway down the main staircase, though, when he heard something that distracted him.

It was Rachel. She was standing at his front door, talking to Alfred. Bruce's pace quickened at the sight of her, and he soon joined them at the entryway. He arrived in time to hear Rachel making her excuses as to why she couldn't attend Bruce's birthday party tonight.

"You've got better plans?" Bruce asked her, as Alfred left them on their own.

"My boss has been missing for two days, which in this town means that I should probably start by looking at the bottom of the river," she answered rather hopelessly.

"Rachel," Bruce began, wanting to comfort her, but he was soon cut off by her cell phone ringing.

"Excuse me," she muttered, as she grabbed her phone from her bag. She answered, and her tone became upset.

"Who authorized that?" she demanded of the individual on the other line. "Get Crane down there right now. Do not take no for an answer."

Bruce listened more intently once Rachel mentioned Crane. He wondered what trouble the doctor might be causing now—other than his involvement with bringing toxins into the city.

Rachel continued giving orders. "Call Dr. Lehmann," she began. "Tell him we'll need our own assessment on the judge's desk by morning."

She ended the call—still angry—and Bruce asked her what was wrong.

"It's Falcone," she answered. "Dr. Crane moved him to Arkham Asylum on suicide watch."

Rachel quickly put away her phone and searched for her keys. Bruce could guess what she was planning. She was in a hurry to reach Arkham and figure out exactly what Crane was doing with Falcone. Bruce couldn't just stand by and watch her run into danger, though.

"You're going to Arkham now?" he said, trying to make her think about what she was considering and where she would be going. "It's in the Narrows, Rachel."

But Rachel ignored his comments, telling him to enjoy his party while some people had real work to do.

Bruce knew that there was work to be done—and the Batman was one of the people that needed to be doing it.

"Be careful," he told her. She was the second woman he'd said that to today. Claire had run off to the other side of the country to handle a nearly impossible situation on her own; Rachel was going across town, but at least she wasn't going to be alone. The Batman would be keeping an eye on her.

As soon as Rachel turned to leave, Bruce headed down a hallway toward the batcave. Alfred followed right behind him, trying to dissuade Bruce from leaving. Alfred wanted him to be Bruce Wayne and stay for the party, but Bruce was more than the billionaire playboy. Right now, he needed to be Batman.


	10. Chapter 10

Arkham Asylum was in the heart of the Narrows. It was an old, uninviting brick building that housed Gotham's psychotic and criminally insane. Jonathan Crane ran the place, increasing its population by having inmates transferred from the local penitentiary. If Bruce had to guess, Crane was also using the asylum for his part in Falcone's drug operations.

Bruce needed to investigate Arkham to uncover what he could on Crane's poison, but right now he needed to be there to make sure that Rachel was safe.

Rachel had a head start on him. She'd left the manor before Bruce could make his own exit, and the gunshot wound on his shoulder had hindered him, making it more difficult for him to put on his batsuit. Bruce was determined, though. He worked through the pain and was inside his tank-like vehicle, which he called the Tumbler, in a matter of minutes.

Bruce made it to Arkham shortly after Rachel, but by that time, she was already on her own with Crane. Bruce was on the outside of the building, hanging from bars covering a window. He could hear the conversation between Rachel and Crane using an amplifier. Crane was explaining Falcone's move to the asylum—how the mob boss had experienced a psychotic breakdown. Rachel noted how convenient Falcone's current state was, given the fact that he was facing a criminal hearing soon.

Crane tried to argue that Falcone's condition was genuine and that the evidence was apparent in his symptoms. The older man could be heard muttering in his cell the word "scarecrow" repeatedly. Crane claimed that it was just a creation of Falcone's delusional episodes, a figment of his imagination on which he could focus his paranoia.

Bruce doubted it, though. He'd seen the mask Crane had worn when he was dosed with the doctor's poison, and Bruce could believe that someone under the effects of that drug might think that Crane was a scarecrow behind that thing.

This meant that Crane was using his drug on Falcone—and who knows how many other inmates in Arkham. The version that Bruce had been exposed to was intended to kill him, but Falcone appeared to have received a weaker dose—one that was only meant to make him seem mentally disturbed and justify his transfer to Arkham.

Bruce needed to stop Crane before he could use his drug on anyone else or for any other foul purpose.

Rachel seemed intent on stopping Crane as well, although she didn't know the full extent of the doctor's schemes. She wanted another physician to assess Falcone's condition, and she wanted the assessment done tonight.

Crane agreed, but Bruce felt fear enter his gut. Crane wouldn't agree to this—to tests that would reveal his true practices, so that meant he had to be lying to Rachel. And what was Crane going to do to deal with this lie?

Rachel was in trouble, and iron bars and a solid wall stood between Bruce and keeping her safe. A man like Crane—with few options and everything to lose—was dangerous, and Bruce knew that Crane wasn't afraid to kill. Rachel was right in his path, and Bruce needed to pull her out of there.

He was on the move the moment Crane led Rachel to the asylum's elevator. He headed to the roof and found a ventilation duct that was attached to the elevator shaft. From what Bruce could tell, Rachel and Crane were on their way to the basement of Arkham.

Bruce followed them quickly, but by the time he reached the basement, Crane had already managed to use his poison on Rachel, and the doctor was now dragging her into a room at the end of a hallway.

Bruce kept to the shadows as he assessed the situation in the larger room. The place was filled with Crane's goons, and it appeared to have open access to piping that was part of Gotham's water supply. There were containers filled with a white powder next to the pipes, so Bruce could only assume that Crane and his men were dumping the drug into the water system. Bruce could also see Rachel on a table in the center of the room, writhing from the effects of the poison.

If Rachel weren't there, Bruce would bring down Crane and his men without hesitating. But right now, he couldn't risk any harm to Rachel. He needed to distract the other men and make sure their attention stayed on the Batman.

Bruce looked around the room and could see a pattern to the lighting. Following the wires, he found an electrical panel, and from that, Bruce managed to turn off the lights in the room.

It was the distraction he needed to make Crane and the others leave Rachel. Crane had been interrogating her until the lights went out, but once the room was shrouded in darkness, Bruce incapacitated the other men and then went after Crane. He had his own questions for the doctor.

Crane tried to put up a fight, but physically he was no match for the Batman. After a flimsy attempt at a punch, Bruce restrained the doctor's right arm. He could feel something attached to the man's forearm, and Bruce's mind flashed back to the apartment in the Narrows. The night that he was poisoned, Crane had released the drug from a device on his arm. Bruce grabbed Crane's mask, pulling it off as he turned the arm towards the doctor's face.

"Taste of your own medicine, Doctor?" Bruce said as he hit a button on Crane's device and forced the man to inhale his own poison.

Crane coughed in response, gagging on the drug. Bruce knew that he needed to ask his questions quickly while the doctor was still somewhat coherent. It wouldn't take long for the poison to affect Crane's mind to the point where he wouldn't be able to provide answers.

"What have you been doing here?" Bruce demanded. When Crane didn't respond, he asked another, "Who are you working for?"

Finally, Crane muttered one word, "Ra's…"

It wasn't clear. At first, Bruce thought that it might not have been anything, but then Crane continued.

"Ra's Al Ghul," he said.

Bruce didn't believe it. He couldn't. During his last encounter with the League of Shadows, Bruce had watched Ra's die. The man had just ordered Bruce to kill someone, and when Bruce refused, he was told that his failure to act as he'd been instructed would result in his own death.

Bruce couldn't become a murderer, but neither could he let himself be killed by the League. Instead, Bruce knocked a hot branding iron into a hayloft, starting a fire in the middle of the League's headquarters. At that point, all hell broke loose. Ra's Al Ghul's men attacked Bruce, as the building burnt down around them.

In the middle of that chaos, Ra's had lost his life, which meant that Crane had to be mistaken about his current employer.

Bruce made that clear to Crane as he said, "Ra's Al Ghul is dead. Who are you working for?"

After a moment, Crane at last offered a reply, "Dr. Crane isn't here right now, but if you'd like to make an appointment…"

Bruce growled in frustration and was about to start questioning Crane again when the sound of sirens began to echo through the room. Someone in Arkham must have called the police.

The Batman was wanted by Gotham's Police Department for his vigilantism, but Bruce wasn't going to turn himself over to them. He needed to figure out the extent of Crane's plan and who was really behind it, and he also needed to help Rachel. It seemed that she'd been given a dangerous dose of the drug, so Bruce knew that she needed to receive the antidote as quickly as possible.

Lucius Fox was going to deliver what he had left of the antidote to the manor, so Bruce had to bring Rachel there. He just needed to make his way out of Arkham and past the police outside first.

" _Batman,_ " a voice sounded on a bullhorn. " _Put down your weapons and surrender. You are surrounded._ "

Apparently, they weren't going to make this easy for him.

* * *

Claire stopped in Metropolis long enough to change into her Blur clothing and then sped to the Northern Pacific.

The oil rig wasn't hard to find. Given her speed, Claire could run on water, and she saw the smoke from the burning rig from miles off.

There were various boats surrounding the scene. Some were Coast Guard; others appeared to be fishing or commercial vessels. All of them were drawn to this spot by the blazing inferno. While they were trying to help rescue the survivors, many of the people in the water were having trouble reaching the boats. There was debris from the platform blocking their paths, and the waves were strong and choppy.

Claire began her efforts by grabbing the people out of the water and leaving them on the closest boats. It impacted her speed to start and stop like she was doing, but Claire could also swim fast. If pulling a man from the water affected her ability to run on its surface, Claire would swim to the nearest boat, drop off the survivor, and then regain her momentum on the deck of the vessel.

This process continued for some time, until Claire could neither see nor hear anyone left in the water. She then headed straight for the rig itself and grabbed hold of the first pillar she reached. She quickly climbed the structure as she listened for signs of workers still trapped within the platform.

Once Claire located them, she used her x-ray vision to find the best path to bring them out of the rig. While she was scanning the interior, she heard a helicopter approaching. It was the Coast Guard, and they were on their way to the landing pad on the rig.

Claire realized that the helicopter was her best option. She knew she could lift eight people without difficulty, but making it into the water and running to a boat while carrying them would be a challenge.

Swiftly, Claire made her way into the rig and down to the room in which the men were trapped, putting out fires as she went. When she reached the same level as the workers, she saw that only one sealed door blocked the men from their best escape route.

The door appeared to have been damaged in the explosion, and Claire doubted that the workers would have been able to open it up on their own. She was here now, though, and thankfully she could bend steel.

Claire pulled the door off its hinges and tossed it aside. Moving at her super-speed, she grabbed two of the men from the room and raced them up to the landing pad. She repeated these steps until all of the men were outside.

The helicopter was almost to the rig when she brought the last pair up. Everything seemed to be working out. No one had managed to have a good look at Claire. She'd been moving too quickly whenever she was in front of the men, and now that she was done dropping them off at the landing pad, Claire moved behind pillars on the rig to stay out of sight. The men just needed to board the helicopter once it landed, and then they would be safe, having only seen a blur.

The men made it onto the helicopter hastily, and Claire waited, watching to make sure that they were able to take off from the rig. Just as the helicopter started to lift from the pad, though, a tower on the rig began to fall towards them

Claire could tell that they wouldn't be able to clear it, so she ran to the base of the tower and used her strength to support it. She was wearing her mask and the rest of her Blur outfit, which meant no one there would be able to identify her, but they would be able to see the Blur standing still. It was the first time she really had witnesses to her actions, but she needed to be there. The helicopter couldn't take off otherwise.

Claire could hear the men shouting, asking one another if they could see the person holding up the broken tower. The pilot seemed to be the only one not commenting on the Blur; he was too concerned with his helicopter and the people on board. Claire was grateful for that. She wanted everyone clear of the rig before the situation became any worse.

Finally, the helicopter was in flight, moving away from the rig. Once they were away, Claire moved, letting the tower fall, and she assessed the rest of the situation.

Amazingly, the underwater piping and valves seemed to still be intact. Claire didn't see any cracks or straining metal under the surface of the water. Instead, most of the damage was just on the platform. Fortunately, the valves on the pipes leading up to the platform appeared to be holding, which decreased the chances of this incident becoming a serious oil spill.

Claire moved to what seemed to be a sturdy spot on the unstable rig and prepared to do what she could to save what remained of the platform. Her plan was to use her super-breath to put out the flames. She inhaled deeply, but as she went to exhale, another explosion rocked the rig, throwing Claire backwards.

It was disorienting.

All of a sudden, Claire was freefalling into the ocean, along with the majority of the platform. As she passed beneath the surface of the water, Claire was caught up in a large piece of debris from one of the rig's towers. It drug her downward, deeper into the ocean.

She lost focus, and as she sank, the world around her turned to darkness.

* * *

It took some work, but Bruce managed to escape Arkham and make it back to Wayne Manor without being caught by police. He'd had help, though. Sargent Jim Gordon had aided him in making it past the SWAT teams and in bringing Rachel outside to the Tumbler.

Bruce's escape had then involved a high-speed chase, as the police had attempted to stop his efforts to leave. But the Tumbler was better equipped than the police cars, so they couldn't keep up with him.

As soon as Bruce made it to the batcave, he gave Rachel the cure to Crane's poison. Lucius had left three additional samples of the antidote at the manor, and Bruce knew what needed to be done with them. He'd administered one to Rachel, and of the two remaining samples, one needed to be given to Gordon—so that he could inoculate himself before continuing his investigation of Crane—and the other needed to be used for mass production. If Crane really had dumped his drug into Gotham's water supply, as it appeared he had, then the city's residents were going to need ready access to a cure.

It didn't take long for Rachel to begin stirring—a sign that she was waking up from the haze caused by the poison. Bruce had kept her in the cave, and he still wore his batsuit. Now wasn't the time to tell her that he was the Batman. He needed her to deliver the other samples to Gordon, and he didn't need to distract her by revealing his true identity. She would follow the Batman's instructions once she realized that the city was in danger, but she would have too many questions if she found out that Bruce was the man behind the mask.

As the Batman, he told Rachel what she needed to do, and then he gave her a sedative. She didn't need to see that the batcave was under Wayne Manor when she was leaving.

A part of Bruce hated having to keep his identity a secret from Rachel. If she knew who he really was and if she could accept it, then there might be a chance for a future between them. But Bruce wondered if she would understand his need to be the Batman—in truth, who could really understand something like that?

Bruce knew he didn't have time to contemplate that now, though. He took off his batsuit and changed into a tuxedo. His birthday party was supposed to be going on upstairs, and Lucius had been invited to the event. Bruce hoped that the other man was in attendance. He needed Lucius to make more of the antidote in case Gordon and the police force weren't able to replicate it quickly enough, but Bruce couldn't ask for Lucius' help in the middle of this party while dressed as the Batman. Instead, he had to be Bruce Wayne for the moment.

While Bruce was going to be tracking down Lucius, he wanted Alfred to drive Rachel home. She didn't need to stay in the batcave any longer than was necessary, and she would have to find Gordon once she was awake. Gordon was still most likely on the other side of town, so her apartment was a better starting point for her.

Bruce was going to enlist his butler's help as soon as he emerged from the elevator from the cave, but apparently his butler wasn't in a helpful mood.

Alfred was standing near the hidden entrance to the cave in a first-floor sitting room of the manor. He seemed to be waiting for Bruce, and he wore a serious look upon his face.

"When you told me your grand plan for saving Gotham," Alfred began, "the only thing that stopped me from calling the men in the white coats was that you said it wasn't about thrill-seeking."

"It's not," Bruce replied, as he worked to tie his tie.

"What would you call that?" Alfred asked, pointing to the television. On the screen was footage of police cars chasing the Tumbler along the streets of Gotham.

"Damn good television," Bruce replied, not wanting this argument to go any further. He knew Alfred wanted him to stay safe, but Bruce had more to consider than his own wellbeing. He had to protect Gotham. Crane and whoever the doctor was working for were threats to the city and all of its residents. The Batman existed to stop villains like that.

On a more personal level, Bruce had also been desperate to make sure that Rachel received the cure to Crane's poison in time. He couldn't avoid the spectacle of the high-speed pursuit when her life was on the line, but Alfred didn't know about that.

Instead, Alfred was upset, which he made clear as he continued, "It's a miracle that no one was killed!"

"I didn't have time to observe the rules of the road, Alfred," Bruce stated, but that response wasn't satisfactory to his butler.

"You're getting lost inside this monster of yours," Alfred said.

"I'm using this monster to help other people," Bruce began to explain. "Just like my father did," he added.

Bruce wanted Alfred to understand his pursuit was about more than a need for vengeance or a desire to live his life on the edge. Bruce was trying to do something meaningful for the people of Gotham, something his father would have been proud of.

"For Thomas Wayne," Alfred began, "helping others wasn't about proving anything to anyone, including himself."

"It's Rachel, Alfred," Bruce finally stated. "She was dying. She's downstairs, sedated. I need you to take her home."

"Well, we both care for Rachel, sir," Alfred replied. "But what you're doing has to be beyond that. It can't be personal, or you're just a vigilante."

Bruce didn't want to hear it—he didn't have time to hear it, and the tone of his reply reflected that. "You're not going to give me a speech about delivering the right kind of justice, are you? Because I think Miss Kent already beat you to that this afternoon," Bruce said.

"Yes, she did, and now she's gone and thrown her life away too," Alfred replied seriously.

Bruce furrowed his brows at the comment. "What are you talking about, Alfred?" he asked.

Alfred changed the channel on the television. The news network he stopped on wasn't carrying a story about the police hunting down the Batman. Instead, it showed footage of a burning oil rig with a headline underneath that read, "BLUR DEAD?"

"… _was seen holding back a tower from falling down on the helicopter,_ " a voice was saying in the background. " _The pilot managed to take off from the platform because of the efforts of this individual, but it appears that this mysterious savior may have stayed on the rig for too long._ "

The channel then showed rough camerawork—perhaps taken on the phone of one of the men escaping in the helicopter. The fire and smoke from the platform could be seen, and suddenly, there was another explosion on the rig. A distorted, burning figure appeared to be thrown from the rig into the ocean below, followed by massive pieces of debris.

" _We cannot confirm at this time if it was the Blur on the rig, but there have been no recorded sightings of the Blur since this incident, nor has the oil company offered any other suggestions as to the identity of the unknown figure seen falling from the platform,_ " the reporter continued. " _And the survivors of this disaster seem certain that it was the Blur that saved them, and tonight they are praying that the Blur survived it as well._ "

The channel then cut to another story. It took Bruce a moment before he could speak. He might not agree with Claire and her naïve, hopeful outlook, but that didn't mean he wished her harm.

"She didn't throw her life away," he said solemnly.

"What?" Alfred asked, shutting off the television.

"We don't know that she died," Bruce said. "And even if she did, she didn't throw her life away. She was out there trying to save people."

"At what cost, sir?" Alfred replied.

Bruce didn't have time for this discussion. He turned and began walking down a hallway toward the main dining room, where his party was being held. He still had to try to save his city from Crane's plans, and to do that he needed to find Lucius.

Stopping midway, Bruce turned back to Alfred to ask, "Is Fox still here?"

"Yes, sir," Alfred answered, resignedly.

"We need to send these people away now," Bruce said. He was bothered, and he didn't want to deal with people who were only here to see billionaire Bruce Wayne. None of them knew the sacrifices that a strong young woman had made trying to save the helpless today, and Bruce doubted that many of the people in the next room would truly care. But he needed to stop his mind from drifting to that thought. Bruce needed to focus on the real task at hand.

Alfred didn't seem to agree, though, as he continued his arguments, "Those are Bruce Wayne's guests out there, sir. You have a name to maintain."

"I don't care about my name," Bruce replied.

"It's not just your name, sir," Alfred said, his tone sorrowful but firm. "It's your father's name, and it's all that's left of him. Don't destroy it."

Bruce was done listening, and apparently Alfred was done trying to reason with him. Both men went their separate ways as Alfred went in one direction and Bruce went in the other toward the party.

The Batman had a job to do, whether Alfred was willing to help him or not.


	11. Chapter 11

_**Author's Note:**_ _I want to thank everyone who has reviewed, followed, or favorited this story. I really appreciate your feedback._

 _I also want to answer a few questions that won't be addressed in this chapter, but I'll be brief to avoid spoiling anything. To highlander348, Claire isn't really flying yet. In_ Smallville _, Clark had a few rare experiences with flying in his pre-Superman days (while he was the Blur and before), and Claire is at a similar level in terms of flight. To Wildlifer, you will find out about the fortress in a later chapter._

 _And to everyone, thank you for reading!_

* * *

When she heard a whale's song somewhere in the distance, Claire finally came back to her senses. She managed to free herself from the debris and swim back to the surface. Luckily, Claire wasn't constrained by a human's breathing capacity. Otherwise, the descent might have drowned her.

Once Claire resurfaced, she scanned the area. It appeared that nothing but fire and rescue teams were surrounding the platform. The boats and helicopters that had picked up the survivors were making their way back to the coast, and the vessels that remained were focused on putting out the fires that were still burning on the rig.

As she looked around, Claire realized that she was seeing through her eyes normally—she wasn't looking through the slits that were cut into her mask. In fact, she didn't feel her mask on her head at all. She remembered the intensity of the last explosion and figured that her mask must have been burnt off by the flames.

Claire looked down at the rest of her outfit and saw that her clothing was in tatters. She had considered going up to the platform and helping with the last of the fires, but right now, it didn't seem like a great idea. There was no one that needed her immediate help up there; the teams on the rig knew what they were doing. And if she went on the platform and needed to slow down for any reason, her unmasked face and the current state of her apparel would invite trouble.

Claire had done what she could for the people that needed help, so she decided it would be best to leave the area. She swam to the coast and then ran to Metropolis. Claire needed to clean herself up and change into some new clothing before doing anything else.

* * *

Bruce could hear them singing "Happy Birthday" as he made his entrance into his party. He smiled and showed gratitude to his guests for their well wishes, but on the inside, he wanted to be anywhere but this room.

Earle was the first person to approach him. The man was another complication in his life, working to irreparably change the company that his family had created—and not for the better. But at least Earle was one problem Bruce was dealing with successfully. Earle was taking Wayne Enterprises public in hopes that he could push the company into profitable, yet dangerous fields, and based on what he was saying now, Earle didn't know anything about what Bruce was planning to do to stop his schemes.

And Bruce intended to keep it that way—at least for tonight. Bruce had other problems to address now, and Earle could wait. He left the older man and went to find Lucius.

After wading through the crowd of guests, Bruce finally spotted him.

"Thank you for that item," Bruce said quietly when he approached Lucius, referring to the antidote to Crane's poison.

"You're welcome," Lucius replied. "I know you'll put it to good use."

"I already have," Bruce said, before asking, "How long would it take to manufacture on a large scale?"

"With just me working at it—weeks. And it would also take time to inoculate people once it's produced. But why are you asking?"

"Someone's planning to disperse the toxin using the water supply," Bruce answered.

Lucius shook his head, explaining, "The water supply won't help you disperse an inhalant."

But suddenly Lucius' expression changed. A worried look entered the man's eyes, and Bruce wanted to know what was concerning him.

"What?" Bruce asked.

"Unless you have a microwave emitter powerful enough to vaporize all the water in the mains," Lucius answered. "A microwave emitter like the one Wayne Enterprises just misplaced."

"Misplaced?" Bruce questioned, worriedly.

"Earle just fired me for asking too many questions about it," Lucius answered.

Bruce sighed in frustration. Crane and his associates were going to release their poison in Gotham, and they were going to use technology from Wayne Enterprises—his family's company—to accomplish it.

But letting that thought bother him now wasn't going to help anything.

Bruce buried his anger and focused on what needed to be done to fix this mess.

"I need you to go back to Wayne Enterprises right now," Bruce told Lucius. "And start making more of that antidote. I think the police are going to need as much as they can get their hands on, okay?"

"But my security clearance has been revoked," Lucius replied.

"Well, that wouldn't stop a man like you, now, would it?" Bruce questioned.

"I suppose not," Lucius answered with confidence.

Bruce was glad to hear it. He needed help from someone capable right now. Lucius nodded a goodbye and headed on his way, while Bruce turned back to the multitude of people still in his house.

Bruce didn't feel the need to mingle any longer. He'd made his appearance, and now he needed to be the Batman again. He went to make his way back to the batcave when one of his guests stopped him, wanting to introduce him to someone. Mrs. Delane was a nice, but oblivious woman, and whoever she wanted Bruce to meet could wait.

Mrs. Delane was insistent, though, as she continued speaking even as Bruce tried to leave. "Now, am I pronouncing this right?" she asked. "Mr. Ra's Al Ghul?"

Mrs. Delane now had Bruce's full attention. He turned toward the individual she was introducing, wondering if he would see the head of the League of Shadows standing before him.

But Bruce didn't recognize the man, and he made that clear as he said, "You're not Ra's Al Ghul. I watched him die."

"But is Ra's Al Ghul immortal?" a voice said from behind Bruce. "Are his methods supernatural?"

"Or cheap parlor tricks to conceal your true identity, Ra's?" Bruce replied. He'd recognized the voice and knew that it belonged to his former mentor Henri Ducard. In that moment, though, Bruce suddenly realized that Ducard was more than just a member of the League of Shadows—he was actually its leader. Ducard was Ra's Al Ghul.

The thought made so much sense as Bruce looked back and considered how it was Ducard who had recruited him and Ducard who'd seemed to give the orders within the League's headquarters. Bruce had thought that Ducard might just serve as a voice for Ra's, but seeing Ducard now and knowing that the League had been carrying on operations with Falcone and Crane after Ra's' supposed death, Bruce realized that Ducard was more than he appeared. The man that Bruce had believed was Ra's was most likely just a decoy.

Ducard smiled at him and confirmed Bruce's theory as he said, "Surely a man who spends his nights scrambling over the rooftops of Gotham wouldn't begrudge me dual identities?"

There was something sinister to the look Ducard had in his eyes, and knowing that the man was actually Ra's Al Ghul, Bruce had no doubt that there was going to be trouble. He looked at the room around him, which was filled with unaware bystanders.

"Your quarrel is with me," Bruce stated. "You let these people go."

"You are welcome to explain the situation to them," Ra's replied. Bruce knew that the man before him would have no hesitation in harming these people, so Bruce needed them gone now.

Ra's was challenging him, seeing whether Bruce would reveal his identity to secure the safety of the people in the room, but Bruce had another idea. To his guests, he was billionaire Bruce Wayne, and as that persona, there was a different way that he could convince them to leave.

Bruce gathered the attention of everyone in the room, tapping his nail against his champagne glass and adding a slur to his words. He played the part of a drunk—an intoxicated rich boy who was annoyed with the crowd before him. He demanded that they leave, and after repeating the words and insulting them enough times, the guests finally departed.

As the crowd cleared, Bruce noticed that some men were still standing in place. From the look of them, they were members of the League, no doubt here to help Ra's carry out his plans.

"Amusing," Ra's said to Bruce, after his speech. "But pointless. None of these people have long to live. Your antics at the asylum have forced my hand."

"So Crane was working for you," Bruce said.

"His toxin is derived from the organic compound found in our blue flowers," Ra's explained, referring to the blue flowers that had been used to bring out Bruce's fears in his attempted initiation into the League. "Crane was able to weaponize it."

"He's not a member of the League of Shadows," Bruce stated, knowing that the doctor wouldn't have been able to pass the League's trials.

"Of course not," Ra's replied. "He thought our plan was to hold the city to ransom."

"But really you are going to release Crane's poison on the entire city?" Bruce asked.

"Then watch Gotham tear itself apart through fear," Ra's answered with a satisfied tone to his voice.

"You're going to destroy millions of lives," Bruce said, wondering if there was any part of Ra's that was still human and perhaps willing to listen to reason.

"Only a cynical man would call what these people have 'lives,' Wayne," Ra's replied. "Crime, despair—this was not how man was supposed to live. The League of Shadows has been a check against human corruption for thousands of years."

Ra's proceeded to describe how they had brought down cities throughout history using a variety of tactics. "Every time a civilization reaches the pinnacle of its decadence, we return to restore the balance," he explained.

"Gotham isn't beyond saving," Bruce said, desperately. "Give me more time. There are good people here."

"You are defending a city so corrupt we have infiltrated every level of its infrastructure," Ra's said, trying to make Bruce see the futility of his arguments. He continued, "When I found you, you were lost, but I believed in you. I took away your fear, and I showed you a path. You were my greatest student. It should be you standing by my side, saving the world."

Bruce realized that Ra's was too deluded by his beliefs to see that his plan was madness. Bruce couldn't reason with him, which left only one other option.

"I'll be standing where I belong," Bruce replied. "Between you and the people of Gotham."

"No one can save Gotham," Ra's said sternly. He nodded to his men, and they began tearing apart furniture and pouring what appeared to be gasoline throughout the mansion. A few sparks were released, and suddenly the floors and walls were on fire. "When a forest grows too wild, a purging fire is inevitable and natural," Ra's continued. "Tomorrow the world will watch in horror as one of its greatest cities destroys itself. The movement back to harmony will be unstoppable this time."

Bruce wondered what Ra's meant in referring to _this time_. "You attacked Gotham before?" he asked.

"Of course," Ra's answered. "Over the ages, our weapons have grown more sophisticated. With Gotham we tried a new one: economics. But we underestimated certain of Gotham's citizens, such as your parents."

The tone Ra's used was dark, and he had to know that his words were affecting Bruce. His parents' murder was always a sore spot for Bruce—a fact that Bruce had confided in Ducard about during his training.

"Gunned down by one of the very people they were trying to help," Ra's continued, his words taunting Bruce. "Create enough hunger and everyone becomes a criminal. Their deaths galvanized the city into saving itself, and Gotham has limped on ever since. We are back to finish the job. And, this time, no misguided idealists will get in the way. Like your father, you lack the courage to do all that is necessary. If someone stands in the way of true justice, you simply walk up behind them and stab them in the heart."

The villain's eyes flicked back behind Bruce for a brief moment, but it was long enough for Bruce to realize that someone was coming up behind him. Bruce didn't hesitate. He moved to attack the other man and incapacitate him, but Bruce knew he had to be quick about it. He could already hear Ra's drawing a sword from his cane the moment the other attacker went down.

Bruce turned back to Ra's and grabbed the other man's arms, keeping the blade from being able to reach him.

"I am going to stop you," Bruce said forcefully. Both he and Ra's were straining from the effort, and Bruce couldn't tell which of them would be able to gain the upper hand.

"You never did learn to mind your surroundings," Ra's said suddenly, before making a move to throw Bruce off balance. Ra's pushed Bruce backwards, and then a beam from the ceiling came crashing down on top of him.

Bruce was pinned to the floor, and everything was becoming hazy.

He heard Ra's add, "Justice is balance. You burned my house and left me for dead. Consider us even."

As Ra's and the others left the manor, Bruce's mind became clouded by the smoke surrounding him.

* * *

Alfred had taken Rachel home, just as Bruce had requested. He might be upset with Bruce for his reckless choices of late, but Alfred had agreed that Rachel needed to stay out of the middle of this. She didn't need to wake up in the manor and realize what Bruce was doing with his evenings.

But the more Alfred contemplated it, the more he wondered whether he should have let Rachel find out the identity of the Batman. Perhaps she could talk Bruce out of this madness, because Alfred didn't think he would be able to stop Bruce. His efforts so far had failed, and even what had happened to Miss Kent hadn't made Bruce reconsider his decision to be the Batman.

Alfred wrestled with the thought of what he should do to put Bruce on a better path for nearly the entire drive back to the manor. But before he reached the gates, Alfred realized something was wrong.

First, he noticed a line of cars heading in the opposite direction, as if they were leaving the manor. The only people who would be coming from that way would be the guests when they were leaving the party, but Alfred didn't understand why they would be departing so soon. Then, through the darkened night sky, Alfred saw an orange glow in the direction of the manor and what appeared to be smoke billowing from it.

The mansion was burning.

The last vehicle that passed him almost ran him off the road, but Alfred wasn't sure if it was intentional or if he was just too caught up in the thought of the house being on fire.

As he went along the main drive, Alfred could see a man, outlined by the flames, standing near the front doorway. Alfred's instincts told him that something more was wrong than just the house burning. The man was on his own, and Alfred didn't recognize him. None of the guests that he'd let in or anyone from the wait staff that he'd hired had the build of this man. He was a stranger just standing in front of Wayne Manor, watching the place burn.

Alfred also didn't see Bruce around. If the house were on fire, Alfred believed that Bruce would have been there to make sure that the flames were put out if he were able. Or if Bruce had been injured in the fire, then Alfred would have passed by an ambulance on his way here or there would be one at the house right now, but Alfred had seen no sign of that sort of vehicle.

There was only the mysterious man before him.

Alfred parked some distance away, trying not to attract the man's attention. There was a set of golf clubs in the backseat, and Alfred grabbed a nine iron before heading toward the mansion on foot.

As he drew closer, Alfred could see the man better. He was facing the doorway, as if he were there to make sure that he could see anyone trying to leave the house.

Alfred had a bad feeling about the man, and he chose to trust that feeling. He approached the man from behind and hit him over the head with the golf club, knocking him out cold.

Alfred then ran into the house, concerned that Bruce was still inside. He ran through several hallways before he spotted a body lying still in the middle of one. Alfred recognized that it was Bruce, and he saw that there was a beam on top of him.

"Master Wayne!" Alfred shouted, hoping that Bruce would offer some sign that he was still alive. "Master Wayne!"

After the second yell, Bruce stirred, and Alfred sighed in relief. Bruce was alive. Now all Alfred had to do was find a way to free him from the beam that pinned him down and somehow help him out of this burning house.

Unfortunately, the beam wasn't moving, no matter how Alfred attempted to leverage it. If he couldn't lift it, then he needed to convince Bruce to put more effort into the task. The younger man was stronger than Alfred. Bruce did pushups every morning as part of his wakeup routine, and Alfred knew that he was always working to test his physical limits.

Alfred needed to make Bruce see that this was just another test.

"What is the point of all those pushups if you can't even lift a bloody log?" Alfred demanded.

That statement seemed to snap Bruce awake. He positioned his arms underneath the beam and pushed up on it until he was free.

Alfred helped him to his feet before realizing that way back to the front door was now blocked by debris. Alfred turned in the other direction and supported Bruce, leading him toward the room that contained the hidden elevator down to the batcave. The cave seemed like the safest place at the moment with the way the flames were closing in around them.

They managed to board the elevator, with Bruce situating himself on its floor, trying to recover from his injuries. Alfred moved the lever so that they would descend into the cave. The fire was on their heels, and Alfred let them fall quickly to escape it.

They reached the ground with a rough stop, and Alfred knelt to check on Bruce.

The younger man's eyes were turned upward, watching flames flicker at the top of the shaft.

"What have I done, Alfred?" Bruce questioned. "Everything my family, my father built…"

Alfred could tell that Bruce was blaming himself for the destruction of the manor, and perhaps it was Bruce's fault. Perhaps someone was attacking Bruce Wayne because of some grudge they held against the billionaire. Or perhaps someone had discovered that Bruce was actually the Batman, and they had decided to retaliate by burning down his house. Either of those theories might explain what the man had been doing outside—he might've been there to make sure that Bruce didn't escape.

But the crumbling manor above him wasn't what truly mattered to Alfred. The house had been his place of employment for decades, but what was actually important to him was the Wayne family. Over the years, they had become a surrogate family to Alfred, and even though he worried about Bruce and his activities as the Batman, he couldn't deny that he was proud of what the younger man was trying to accomplish, and he wasn't going to allow Bruce to wallow in a state of guilt and self-pity.

"The Wayne legacy is more than bricks and mortar, sir," Alfred told Bruce.

"I wanted to save Gotham," Bruce replied quietly. "I failed."

Alfred wouldn't hear it. Instead, he turned to a saying that Thomas Wayne had often used. "Why do we fall, sir?" Alfred began. Once Bruce looked him in the eye, clearly recognizing the question, Alfred offered the answer, "So that we can learn to pick ourselves up."

"You still haven't given up on me?" Bruce asked.

"Never," Alfred replied, without hesitation.

He went to help Bruce up when he heard a noise from above them. The beams and cables near the top of the shaft suddenly gave way, damaged from exposure to the flames. The metal was plummeting toward them, and the elevator's frame wouldn't be enough to protect them.

Alfred struggled to help Bruce move, but he didn't know if they could make it. There just wasn't enough time.

But the metal didn't come crashing down on top of them. Alfred looked up to see what had stopped it, and he saw a figure dressed in black above them, holding back the debris. The person then tossed the metal aside and jumped down in front of the elevator.

Standing before them was Claire Kent, and Alfred couldn't be happier to see her. She wasn't wearing her mask, but she appeared to be in the rest of her Blur clothing. Alfred was comforted to know that she was alive and grateful that she had managed to save his life and Bruce's life.

"Are you two okay?" she asked worriedly. She was checking them over, and Alfred wondered about the extent of injuries that she could see on Bruce.

Alfred answered, "I'll be fine, Miss Kent, but…" He looked at Bruce. The younger man was his main concern now, and thankfully Claire understood. She nodded and went to Bruce's side.

"I thought I told you to stay out of trouble," she said to Bruce as she moved to help him out of the elevator. He put his arm around her shoulders and let her stand him upright.

"I didn't make any promises," Bruce replied as they moved toward a table in the cave.

"And what about you, Miss Kent?" Alfred asked. "The reports said that it was unlikely you survived."

"The outfit and mask I was wearing didn't really make it. Fortunately though, I have backups," Claire answered, gesturing to her clothing and a piece of black fabric in her hand that Alfred assumed was her spare mask. "Otherwise I'm okay. It takes more than an explosion to stop me, Al."

"What brought you back here?" Bruce asked her, now standing on his own.

"I saw a story on the news once I got back to Metropolis," Claire explained. "It said that Batman had broken into a local asylum and then led the police on a wild freeway chase."

"So you came here to offer your two cents on that?" Bruce questioned. His tone was more callous than Alfred thought it should be, but Alfred also knew that it could have to do with the amount of pain Bruce had to be in.

"I came here because I figured something pretty important must be going on to get you out of bed and back as the Batman already with the shape you're in," Claire said. "And now that I'm here, I find that your house is burning down, so I'm going to take care of that and then you can fill me in on what else is going on."

Claire was turning to head back toward the elevator shaft when Bruce stopped her, grabbing her arm.

"No," Bruce said plainly.

"No what?" Claire asked.

"Don't put out the fire," Bruce answered.

"Why not? It's your house. Don't you want me to try to save what's left of it?"

"It's not worth it," Bruce replied. "There's no rain storm tonight or any other excuse we could use to explain how the fire went out at this point. And we can't tell people that you just randomly showed up here and took care of it. A story like that would link the Blur to Bruce Wayne, and that sort of attention wouldn't be good for either of us."

Claire halted at Bruce's words and appeared to accept his logic.

"So I just let your house burn down?"

"Yes," Bruce answered. "Because there's something more important that I need you to do."

"What's that?" Claire asked.

"Help me save Gotham."


	12. Chapter 12

_**Author's Note:**_ _Chapters 12, 13, and 14 will be wrapping up the_ Batman Begins _portion of this story. This is taking some time, because I'm trying to post these chapters as close together as possible. I hope to have Chapter 13 posted in the next few days, so keep an eye out for it._

 _As always, thank you for reading!_

* * *

Claire and Alfred both listened intently as Bruce quickly explained who Ra's Al Ghul was and what the man was planning for Gotham. They were still in the batcave, and Claire watched Bruce lay out his armor while he spoke. Claire could tell that his latest injuries were bothering him, but she was impressed that he wasn't giving up.

"So this Ra's guy," she began once Bruce had finished speaking, "he's on his way right now to turn on the microwave emitter and make everybody in the city go crazy and start attacking each other?"

"Unless we stop him," Bruce replied, removing his jacket.

"All right. So where do you think he has the emitter?" Claire asked.

"You're not going after him," Bruce answered, as he began to unbutton his shirt.

"I think you're confused. You just said that you wanted my help and that _we_ were going to stop this guy, but now you're taking that back?" Claire said. "I'm stronger and faster than you are, Wayne, so it only makes sense that I'm the one going after him."

"I'm going after him," Bruce said. "You're going to save Gotham."

Claire's brow furrowed as she replied, "Now I'm confused."

"As am I, sir," Alfred added.

"Ra's' plan is to turn on the emitter," Bruce said. "Either he'll do it or he'll have another member of the League do it, so even if we stop him, he'll no doubt have a backup in place to make sure that the emitter goes on. In fact, it might already be on."

"I don't hear mass panic in the streets of Gotham, so I don't think that's the case," Claire replied.

"Even so," Bruce began, "it's inevitable. And because of that, Ra's thinks he's won. He thinks we can't stop him, but we can—if we can beat him at his own game."

"How?" Claire asked.

"There's a cure to the poison—an inoculation. If we can get it to the people, then Ra's dispersing the poison becomes irrelevant," Bruce said.

"A cure?" Claire questioned. "You mean what was given to you? Is there enough of that to go around to everyone in Gotham?"

"I have someone at Wayne Tower right now making more," Bruce replied, carefully removing his shirt. "At the rate he's going, though, it will take him weeks to have enough for the entire population. But if he had help…"

"So you want me to speed up the process?"

"And then give the cure to everyone in Gotham," Bruce said. "You're right—you're faster than I am. You're faster than anyone I know. And even if Ra's and his men unleash the poison on the city, I think you're fast enough to beat them."

"And while I'm doing that?" Claire asked, eyeing Bruce warily as he began to don his armor. "You're going after him?"

"I know him. I know how he operates, and I need to be the one to stop him," Bruce answered.

"Your ribs might disagree with you on that," Claire replied. "One more solid hit and a few of them are going to break."

"If you can get the cure to everyone, then that'll stop the poison from causing the destruction of Gotham," Bruce said. "But Ra's will still be out there, and he could cause serious damage even without the poison. I need to stop him, and my suit will help minimize the injuries I receive."

"If you say so," Claire replied. "But I think we need our own backup plan. If you find him and you can't beat him, or if he has the emitter with him and you can't find a way to destroy it, call me. I'm guessing you have some sort of phone among all of your suit's equipment, so my number is—"

"Here," Bruce interrupted, extending out his hand and offering Claire a small earpiece. "It's two-way. Flip this switch on the side, and I'll hear whatever you have to say. My earpiece works the same way. If either of us runs into any complications, we let the other know."

"Okay then," Claire replied, putting the device in her ear.

"Now get to Wayne Tower," Bruce said. "Find Lucius Fox. He'll be in the Applied Sciences division. Tell him why you're there and that you're the Blur. He'll let you know what you need to do."

"Fine," Claire said, before looking at the broken elevator and then the Tumbler. "I take it you can get out of here in that?" she asked Bruce.

"Yes," Bruce answered.

"I don't see any exits other than through the waterfall," Claire observed. "Al, do you want lift topside?"

"That's not necessary, Miss Kent," Alfred replied.

"No, you should go with her," Bruce stated. "There's no other safe way out of here, and in case anyone from the fire department does show up, you can offer them some sort of explanation for all this."

"Oh really, sir?" Alfred replied. "And how do I explain this exactly?"

"Say that Bruce Wayne is a drunken fool who managed to burn his own house down," Bruce instructed. "If they ask where I am, say that I'm passed out somewhere in the back lawn. It would take them time to find anything back there."

"And what about the member of the League of Shadows that I had to knock unconscious at the front door?" Alfred asked. "What should be done about him?"

"I'll deal with him when I bring you up," Claire said, as she moved toward Alfred. "Then I'll head to Wayne Tower."

"Kent," Bruce called, making Claire pause. "I'm glad you're not dead."

"Do me a favor, Wayne," Claire replied. "Let me be able to say the same thing to you at the end of the night."

"I can't make any promises," Bruce said with a slight smile.

"Of course you can't," Claire said, shaking her head. "Ready, Al?" she asked, wrapping her arm around Alfred.

"I suppose as ready as I possibly can be under the circumstances," Alfred replied, hesitantly. He then looked at Bruce before adding, "Good luck, sir."

Bruce nodded to Alfred in response, and then Claire rapidly brought him up to the front door of Wayne Manor.

"Are you okay?" she asked, making sure that Alfred was steady.

"Yes, miss," he answered. "I'll be fine. Now you need to get to Wayne Tower."

"I need to do one more thing first," she said, looking back at the house. Claire sped through her task and then returned to Alfred. She looked at the unconscious man on the ground before turning back to the butler. "I'm going to drop him off with the police, and then I'll go help with the cure. I'll be quick about it, Al. Bruce won't be on his own for long."

"Be careful, miss," Alfred said.

Claire nodded and then put her mask on. She grabbed the collar of the League member and started running toward the city.

* * *

Bruce sped on his way to downtown Gotham, listening to the police reports coming in over the radio. While Ra's had been burning down Bruce's house, apparently other members of the League had released the inmates from Arkham Asylum. They were running loose in the Narrows, terrorizing people, and their actions would no doubt become worse when the inmates were exposed to Crane's poison.

The police commissioner had decided to send nearly all of his officers and SWAT teams to the Narrows as well. This meant that Ra's could do the most damage by turning on the emitter in that part of the city. Not only would it make the Arkham inmates uncontrollable, but it would also bring down the majority of Gotham's police force.

As he was driving, a message went out on the radio, confirming Bruce's theory. It was Gordon's voice on the radio.

" _We need reinforcements: TAC teams, SWATs, riot cops!_ " the Sergeant yelled. If Gordon was calling for that sort of backup, it had to mean that he was dealing with a serious situation.

Commissioner Loeb responded to the Sergeant, " _Gordon, all of the city's riot police are on the island with you._ "

The commissioner's answer indicated that Gordon was still in the Narrows. Based on Bruce's scanners, the bridges had been raised, meaning that movement on and off the island wouldn't be easy for most people. Fortunately for Bruce, he had the Tumbler.

The vehicle was designed to handle rampless jumps, so when Bruce approached the river, he kicked on the Tumbler's boosters and made it across to the Narrows.

" _So I'm on my own?_ " Bruce heard Gordon ask as he landed and pulled the Tumbler to a stop.

There was a white fog in the air, suggesting that the emitter had already been turned on somewhere in the Narrows and that the toxin had been released. The fact that Gordon was still coherent meant that Rachel must have delivered the cure to him.

Bruce opened the hatch on the Tumbler and left the vehicle, finding Gordon nearby.

"The Narrows is tearing itself to pieces," the Sergeant stated.

"This is just the beginning," Bruce replied, with the Batman's rasp in his voice. "Their plan is to hit the whole city with this toxin."

"How are they going to do that?" Gordon asked.

Bruce had been contemplating that. With the bridges raised, there was only one feasible way for Ra's to move the emitter into the heart of Gotham, and it was also the route that would lead to the most damage in terms of releasing the poison.

"They'll be using the train," Bruce answered. "The monorail follows the water mains to the central hub beneath Wayne Tower. If they get their machine into Wayne Station, it'll cause a chain reaction that'll vaporize the entire city's water supply."

"Covering Gotham in this poison," Gordon added, clearly understanding the severity of this situation.

"I'm going to stop him from loading that train, but I may need your help," Bruce said. He knew that Claire and Lucius would be working on distributing the cure, but he wanted another backup plan in place in case something went wrong.

"What do you need?" Gordon asked.

Bruce had an idea in mind. If it was Ra's' intention to use the train to move the emitter into the city, then Bruce just needed to remove the train from the equation. If he could find a way to disable the tracks leading to Wayne Tower, then he could block Ra's' path.

Bruce knew that Claire could probably take out the tracks with little difficulty, but she needed to be helping with the cure. And Bruce had to confront Ra's. That left Gordon as his best choice to handle taking out the tracks. With the firepower on the Tumbler, Bruce didn't foresee Gordon having a problem with the task. He just needed to be sure about one thing before handing the key to the Sergeant.

"Can you drive stick?" Bruce asked.

Gordon replied in the affirmative, took the key, and headed for the Tumbler, while Bruce turned to go deeper into the Narrows.

* * *

"What else do you need?" Claire asked Lucius, using her distorted voice. She had already run to various locations, collecting large quantities of the supplies necessary to produce as much of the cure as possible.

Claire had also used her other abilities to heat up and cool down items as Lucius needed. The ovens and cooling mechanisms in Wayne Tower could only handle so much at a time, but Claire and Lucius were working to create the cure on a large scale. With her abilities, Claire could affect thousands of vials simultaneously, meaning that they might be able to make enough of the cure for the entire city in a day, rather than weeks.

"I think it's time to start dispersal," Lucius replied. "I'll start getting the next round ready and figure out what other supplies we might need, and you should begin inoculating the public. That'll also clear out the finished product and give us room to make more of the cure."

"Fair enough," Claire said. "I'm going to start with the Narrows. It sounds like there's trouble coming from that direction already. I'll do what I can to contain it, and then I'll come back here to help you."

Claire put together a large duffle bag filled with the cure, and she grabbed a second bag for disposal. She would inject each person with the cure and then throw away the used cartridge and needle, and she would repeat the process until everyone in the Narrows had been inoculated. It would take a few trips, but Claire was determined.

* * *

The inmates from Arkham were wreaking havoc on the Narrows. Bruce subdued as many as he could on his way to the train terminal that led off of the island and into the main part of the city, but he knew that more were still out there. The population at Arkham had been at its highest levels under Crane's supervision, so potentially hundreds of criminals could be on the streets from that facility.

Bruce kept an eye out for the red uniforms worn by Arkham inmates, and when he saw a large group of them headed for a nearby alleyway, he knew that they needed to be dealt with immediately.

His pace quickened when he saw their target. It was Rachel.

She was supposed to have delivered the cure to Gordon and then left the Narrows. She wasn't supposed to still be here.

But she was.

It appeared that Rachel was still on the island, trying to protect a boy from the oncoming criminals. She'd armed herself with a gun, but Bruce knew that even with a weapon she was no match for the men before her. She and the boy were in danger.

Bruce moved to the rooftop directly above them. As one of the inmates approached Rachel with a knife, Bruce attached his grappling hook to the building and then leapt down into the alley. He knocked out the criminal with the knife and then wrapped his arm around Rachel and the boy.

He brought them up to the rooftop quickly and made sure the area was secure. The door into the building was tightly bolted, and the ladders to the fire escapes couldn't be reached by the men on the ground. Rachel and the boy would be safe up here.

Bruce was going to jump off the building and return to the fray when Rachel stopped him.

"Wait!" she yelled. "You could die. At least tell me your name."

Bruce could hear the concern in Rachel's voice, and she had good reason to be concerned. Ra's Al Ghul wasn't a villain to be trifled with. He was determined to destroy Gotham, and he would no doubt try to kill Bruce again for standing in his way.

Even with help from Claire and Gordon, there was no guarantee that Bruce would survive this, and he needed Rachel to know the truth about his identity. He didn't want her to think that he was only the careless Bruce Wayne that he pretended to be.

"It's not who I am underneath…but what I do that defines me," he said, using words she'd once said to Bruce.

There was a look of recognition on Rachel's face. She remembered the words, and—more importantly—she remembered the person that she'd said them to.

"Bruce?" she uttered.

At that, Bruce jumped off the building. Rachel knew who he was. He could now face Ra's knowing that Rachel had the truth, and that gave him a strange feeling of comfort amidst this chaos.

Bruce glided above the streets, headed for the train terminal. He saw different reactions from the people below him. Some appeared terrified—clearly still under the influence of the toxin, while others seemed more coherent. Bruce believed that the latter group must have already received the cure from Claire. The air was filled with the white poison, so these people had to have been exposed. The inoculation was the only way to explain how they could be behaving so normally now.

Given the number of cured individuals that Bruce saw, he assumed that Claire's task had to be going well. He hadn't checked in with her, though, because he hadn't wanted to distract her from her objective—especially not when he had objectives of his own to deal with.

Near the train, Bruce could see men who seemed unaffected by the poison, but not because they had received the cure. These men appeared to be armed and armored, and based on their formation, they were guarding the train. If Bruce had to guess, he would say that the emitter was onboard, and he had a feeling that Ra's wouldn't be far away.

Soon enough, Bruce could see a tall figure among the men, issuing orders to them.

It was Ra's. Bruce was certain of it.

He landed right in front of him so that he could confront the man he'd once considered his friend and mentor. But this wasn't the same as their meeting in the manor. There, he'd only been Bruce Wayne, constrained by the limits of that side of his personality.

The Batman had no limits. He would do whatever had to be done to save his city, and right now that meant bringing down Ra's Al Ghul.

Ra's didn't seem interested in a fight with Bruce, though. He made his way into the train car, instead, leaving behind four of his men to deal with Bruce.

But Bruce had fought against members of the League of Shadows before, and even though they outnumbered him, Bruce wouldn't back down. He made the first move, tackling one of the men onto a lower level of the platform. He managed to slow down the man with a few swift hits, but the other three caught up to them soon afterward. The space was too confined for Bruce to fight back effectively, so the men were able to force him off the ledge onto the street.

Bruce recovered quickly, facing off against all three opponents at once. He was handling the situation until a crowd of poisoned individuals surrounded them. Crane's toxin was making them violent, and they lashed out against Bruce and his attackers. Their appearance helped stop the League men from reaching Bruce, but there were too many of them. They were overwhelming Bruce, knocking him over and pinning him to the street.

Bruce knew that he needed to break free from the crowd, and the easiest way to do that would be with his grappling hook. With that, he could return to the platform above, or perhaps he could even reach the train from here. He grabbed for the device on his belt, but it wasn't there. Looking at the space around him, he saw the grappling hook on the ground. It had apparently fallen off during the fight.

Bruce struggled against the crazed people around him. It took effort, but Bruce finally grasped the handle of the device. Lifting it upward, Bruce aimed for the train car.

He knew he didn't have much time. Ra's had to be starting up the train, preparing to bring it—and the emitter—into the heart of the city. This was Bruce's chance to stop the madman and his psychotic plan to destroy Gotham. He had to make it onboard.

Bruce closed his eyes as the hook was launched toward the train. A moment passed where nothing happened, but suddenly, Bruce felt a pull and realized that of everything that had gone wrong today, at least at this he'd been successful.

He was connected to the train, and he was that much closer to putting an end to Ra's' plan.

* * *

Claire ran through the Narrows, dispersing the cure and breaking up fights that were occurring. She noticed the damage done to an asylum on the island, as well as men on the streets wearing red jumpsuits. It was clear from their apparel that the men had to be former inmates of the place. She rounded up every one of them that crossed her path and left them tied up in the old brick building.

She'd gone through the first batch of cure, inoculating thousands, and now she was distributing the second. Lucius was still busy working in Wayne Tower, preparing the next round. There were millions of people in Gotham, and depending on how far the poison spread, Claire might need to give the cure to all of them.

Claire knew that it would solve part of their problem to inoculate everyone, just as Bruce had explained, but she began to wonder if she should just go after the emitter. It would take time to search every corner of the city for the device, but once it was destroyed, Ra's Al Ghul wouldn't be able to spread the poison any further.

Claire debated the issue as she continued to clean up the Narrows, but suddenly, the location of the emitter revealed itself.

A train was speeding away from the Narrows, when all transportation between the island and the rest of the city was supposed to be cut off. Claire could see and hear pipes bursting underneath the train as it went by, meaning the water within was evaporating, releasing more of the poison into the air. It was a clear sign that the emitter was onboard.

Another indication was the fact that the Batman was on his way to the train—and his way apparently involved dangling from a rope off of the fast-moving locomotive.

"You know you're too stubborn for your own good," Claire said after turning on her earpiece. She wondered why he was doing something like that when he could have just called her and asked for her help.

" _Now is not the time!_ " Bruce yelled in reply, the wind rustling behind his voice.

Claire followed him with her hearing as she rounded up another gang of the asylum inmates. She hadn't been able to find Bruce with her senses earlier, because there was just too much chaos surrounding them. But once she had a lock on him, she was able to keep track of him.

She knew that the emitter was on the train, but now she believed that Ra's Al Ghul had to be there as well. Bruce wanted the emitter destroyed, but he'd seemed more intent on finding Ra's. With how tenaciously he was now pursuing the train, it made Claire think that both of Bruce's targets had to be onboard.

She listened for some kind of confirmation.

Claire heard grunting, followed by glass breaking. Bruce was on the train from what she could tell. She also heard one other person onboard.

" _You will never learn,_ " the other passenger said, before launching himself at Bruce.

From the way they were fighting, Claire knew it had to be Ra's Al Ghul, and now she wondered whether she should leave Bruce on his own to handle him. It was clear that the battle between the two of them was personal. Bruce hadn't had a chance to give Claire all of the details, but Ra's had just burnt down Bruce's house while Bruce was still trapped inside. The rift between them was obvious.

She could let Bruce work out this issue on his own, but then again, that meant the emitter might stay on longer—spreading the poison through more of the city. Her priority had to be stopping the toxin from affecting more people. She could continue to disburse the cure, but it would be faster to eliminate the source of the trouble.

Claire's choice seemed clear.


	13. Chapter 13

_**Author's Note:**_ _I want to thank everyone who has favorited, followed, and reviewed this story. Now to answer kindleflame5's_ _—and perhaps other reviewers'_ _—_ _question, I have the main plot and certain particular scenes already worked out for this story. However, I'm planning to cover a good bit of ground across the Nolan films, Smallville, and other franchises in the DCU—either in this story or possibly as related one shots. As a result, I welcome everyone's suggestions, and know that I am keeping in mind suggestions made in the reviews so far. I can't promise that they will appear in the main story, but know that I will consider them!_

 _And to everyone, thank you for reading!_

* * *

Bruce kept his focus on Ra's as soon as he was in the train car. He knew that the emitter was there and turned on, causing the poison to spread further throughout the city, but he also knew Gordon was on his way in the Tumbler to destroy the tracks leading to Wayne Tower.

And now Claire was aware of the emitter's location too. Her comment earlier had to mean that she'd seen Bruce pursuing the train, and if she could see him, then she had to have seen that the emitter was onboard. Her eyesight seemed too keen to miss something like that

With Gordon and Claire's involvement, Bruce knew that the emitter would be taken care of one way or another. Right now, he just needed to deal with Ra's Al Ghul.

Ra's had drawn a sword on him and was making aggressive swings. Bruce had learned speed and agility during his time with the League, though. He dodged a number of Ra's' attacks and parried against the others with his armor.

But Ra's wasn't impressed with Bruce's efforts to fight back. He must have seen that many of Bruce's moves were based on his League training, which Ra's made clear as he said, "Familiar. Don't you have anything new?"

"How about this?" Bruce replied, as he caught Ra's' sword between the sharp blades on his forearms and swiped his arms apart, splitting Ra's' weapon into pieces.

Ra's was caught off guard by the move, and Bruce acted on the momentary drop in his opponent's defenses. He kicked Ra's directly in his chest, knocking the man backward.

Bruce then moved to the control panel on the train. He couldn't see a way to stop the train that Ra's wouldn't be able to undo, but if he could find a way to prevent Ra's from changing the train's direction, then at least Bruce could ensure that they would stay on their current course.

Gordon was on his way now to take out the tracks ahead of them, so if they stayed on course, the poison would stop spreading as soon as the train was derailed. If Ra's could divert the train around that path, though, then they would be in trouble.

Bruce's best option appeared to be destroying the control panel. He grabbed Ra's' broken sword from the ground and drove it into the machinery.

Just then, Ra's came up from behind him, grabbing him and throwing him back toward the center of the train car. Their brawling continued, with both men throwing and taking punches until Ra's shoved Bruce against one of the windows. It shattered in the collision and left Bruce slightly disoriented. Bruce did what he could to shake off the impact and then pushed Ra's into the train's metal railing, knocking the wind out of the other man.

The back and forth went on until Ra's landed a series of punches on Bruce's battered ribs. The pain from the hits allowed Ra's to gain the upper hand. With one kick, Ra's was able to bring Bruce down to the floor. Ra's followed, leaning over Bruce and wrapping his hands around Bruce's neck.

As breathing became difficult for Bruce, Ra's began to speak to him in a voice filled with venom, "Don't be afraid, Bruce. You are just an ordinary man in a cape. That's why you couldn't fight injustice, and that's why you can't stop this train."

Ra's' hands tightened, as he added, "You could have been a part of something, Bruce. You could have been part of this glorious mission, but you decided to stand apart…and to betray me. And what has that gained you? You alone are nothing but a weak, pathetic boy still terrified of the darkness."

"Technically," a voice said, coming somewhere from behind Ra's, "he's not alone."

Ra's turned, and the movement gave Bruce enough room to see behind his foe.

Standing next to the emitter was the Blur.

"What…" Ra's began, clearly surprised to see another person suddenly appear on the train.

"Don't mind me," Claire said. "I'm just here for this."

Suddenly, she drove her fist into the emitter, and when she pulled her arm back out, she brought with it hardware and wiring from inside the device.

"Well," she added, eyeing the material in her hand, "this looked important."

The core of the emitter stopped spinning, and the lights inside the device went out. Without question, Bruce knew that the emitter was no longer functional, and it was apparent that Ra's knew that as well.

"You!" the man growled at Claire. He moved to attack her, but Bruce took the opportunity to strike first. He hit Ra's and managed to flip their positions, pinning Ra's to the floor.

He held two batarangs in his hand—small sharp pieces of durable metal that he'd cut to be shaped like bats. His arm was lifted, poised to bring the weapons down on Ra's the moment the madman made a move.

But suddenly, a loud explosion went off on the street below.

"What the heck was that?" Claire asked.

Bruce knew what it was. The noise had come from directly in front of them, which meant Gordon must have made it to the tracks in front of Wayne Tower. The Sergeant was bringing down the monorail. If there were any other people on the street besides Gordon, then they needed to clear the area before any more debris fell.

"Go!" Bruce yelled to Claire, as he still held down Ra's. "Get everyone away from the train!"

"And what about you?" Claire asked.

"Go. I have everything under control here," Bruce replied.

For once, Claire listened to him. She sped away, as it sounded like more of the track ahead was falling to the ground.

Ra's looked at Bruce curiously, as if he were trying to understand why Bruce had stayed.

"Have you finally learned to do what is necessary?" Ra's questioned. Bruce knew what he was asking. The man believed that murder was necessary to bring about true justice, and he'd tried to teach that lesson to Bruce during his time with the League.

It would be easy enough for Bruce to kill Ra's now. The man had tried to kill him and nearly everyone else in Gotham, and Ra's and his League would no doubt try to kill others in the future if Bruce set him free.

But Bruce still wasn't a murderer. After everything he had gone through and everything that Ra's had done, Bruce wouldn't become an executioner—yet neither was he a saint.

"I won't kill you," Bruce said. "But I don't have to save you."

Ra's had brought himself into this situation, and now Bruce would let him face the consequences of his actions.

Bruce released his batarangs towards the windows at the front of the train, and then threw a small explosive behind him. It opened up the back of the train car, giving Bruce enough space to make his own exit using his cape.

He left Ra's on the floor of the train and glided down toward the street. While he was still in the air, Bruce could see the train reach the end of the tracks and begin its descent.

Then suddenly, when Bruce was only a hundred yards away from the surface himself, a piece of debris fell from above him, ripping through his cape.

The cloth would no longer support him. Bruce reached for his grappling hook before remembering that he'd been forced to leave it attached to the train car, and he didn't have a spare. Like the train a few moments before, Bruce was freefalling to the ground.

He could see the street drawing nearer, but then everything stopped in a rush of wind.

"Are you okay?" a familiar voice asked, as Bruce found himself standing on the street.

Claire was in front of him, and a few blocks ahead of her, Bruce could see a large hole in the middle of the street. There was fire coming from it, along with the tail end of a train car.

Claire turned her head to look at the wreck as well.

"Sorry about the train—and whatever creatures might have been in the sewer beneath it," she said. "It was either save you or save the train, so I went with you."

Bruce felt a need to thank her. She'd said not to before, but she'd helped him more than Bruce had expected. He was still alive and his city was still standing because of her. He was going to form the words when she started speaking again.

"I'm going to continue to inoculate everyone who's been exposed," Claire said. "With the way Fox and I are getting through it, I think we'll be done by dawn. Now, are you okay to get back to the mansion, or do you need me to get you there?"

Bruce looked at the base of the destroyed monorail. The Tumbler was parked nearby, and it seemed to be intact. Gordon was climbing out of the vehicle, and he appeared to be in one piece as well.

They had succeeded. Bruce hadn't been sure that they would when he first ran into Ra's Al Ghul this evening, but somehow, they'd managed to beat the League of Shadows and its leader. Tonight, Bruce had faced his demons and won, and along the way, he'd gained resourceful allies. He'd been fortunate, and despite the pain and loss he'd suffered, Bruce only had one answer for Claire.

"I'll be fine."

"Okay then. I guess I'm heading back to Wayne Tower," Claire said, as she backed away and started turning toward the opposite direction.

"Oh—and Batman," she added, over her shoulder, drawing Bruce's attention. "I'm glad you're not dead."

Claire then took off at her super-speed, and Bruce went to retrieve the Tumbler from Gordon.

* * *

The next day, the media covered nearly every angle of what had happened in Gotham. Different news channels were always playing on the televisions around the Planet—in case there was a breaking story that the reporters needed to know about—so Claire heard every word about Gotham.

According to the reports, criminals had somehow managed to release a toxin into the air, starting in the Narrows and moving deeper into the city. Sergeant Jim Gordon from the Gotham Police Department provided eyewitness testimony of the events. He explained that psychiatrist Jonathan Crane had been working for the mob and dumping drugs into the city's waterlines. The other culprits behind the plot had then used some sort of device to move the poison from the water into the air. They'd loaded the device on a train in an attempt to spread the poison throughout the city, but as the Sergeant and other residents of Gotham described, the Batman had put a stop to their plan.

" _I saw him!_ " one teenage boy exclaimed. " _He was hanging onto the train by a rope, and it was dragging him all through the city!_ "

" _His car was right there,_ " a man explained. " _Or I guess you might want to call it a tank. Whatever it was—he brought that train down with it._ "

The news channels provided footage of what the street leading to Wayne Tower looked like this morning. Jagged pieces of asphalt were sticking up around the edges of a large crater, in which wreckage of the train could still be seen. Authorities had yet to recover a body from the site, but they asserted that no one inside the train could have survived the impact.

Reporters were also asking people to describe what the effects of the poison felt like. Most remembered being in a hazy, nightmarish state, noting how the toxin made them feel afraid or lash out against others.

" _But the Batman saved me,_ " one woman began. " _It had to be him. He was the one stopping the bad guys, so he had to be the one that gave us the cure._ "

Details surrounding how people were cured remained unclear. Doctors had already begun analyzing blood samples from Gotham's citizens. They'd found traces of two substances in a number of people—one was the poison and the other appeared to be an inoculant that neutralized the poison. No one was coming forward to claim that they'd released the cure, so many people took that to mean that the Batman had been behind it. They argued that it wasn't as if the Batman could easily admit to curing them—he was a vigilante who would be arrested by the police if he ever made a public appearance.

Still, there were apparently conspiracy theorists offering alternative ideas. They noted how strange puncture marks had shown up on many of the people who'd been cured. This led them to believe that the Batman had enlisted someone's help to spread the cure. One of them even suggested that the Blur had been involved.

" _Look at how many people were cured,_ " the man said. " _If this cure wasn't airborne like the media has been saying but was really injected into people like the puncture marks suggest, then that means someone had to visit all those people, one-by-one, and give them the cure. There's only one person I know that's fast enough to do that._ "

Claire couldn't help but smile at that theory. There had been no solid evidence of her involvement other than those puncture marks, so the Blur hadn't really been tied to the Gotham story. Most of the morning's news stories that related to the Blur were just about the oil rig incident. Other than the conspiracy theorist, Claire wasn't really being linked to the events in Gotham.

That was fine with Claire, though. This was the Batman's moment for attention, and with the way Bruce had fought to save his city, Claire thought he truly deserved the credit.

Overall, Claire believed that Bruce must be having a good day. His enemy had been defeated last night, his city saved, and now apparently his company was back in good hands. It was a smaller story on the news, but the business journalist included it in his segment—perhaps to tie his story back to the city that was on everyone's minds today. According to the report, Bruce Wayne had managed to purchase back his company after its shares went public. This meant that the billionaire had regained control of his company, and in his first act as owner, he had fired a man named Earle and appointed Lucius Fox as president of Wayne Enterprises.

Claire didn't know much about Earle, but after seeing Fox work tirelessly to save Gotham, she believed the man deserved the position.

The Wayne Enterprises story unfortunately ended on an unhappy note, though. The reporter indicated that while Bruce might be pleased about his company, he needed to be a bit more careful with his alcohol. The man proceeded to describe how Bruce had become so drunk at his birthday party that he'd burnt his home down.

"So," Chloe began, as she moved to stand between Claire and the televisions, "are you going to tell me what really happened last night?"

"What do you mean?" Claire asked.

"Come on, Claire," Chloe said. "Ever since you got that phone call from Gotham the other night, you've been splitting your time between there and Metropolis."

"I spend my time in a number of places," Claire replied. "You know I was off the coast of Alaska yesterday."

"And before you went there you were somewhere else, and after that you were somewhere else. I know you, Claire, and I've been listening to the news today. I can guess where that somewhere else was pretty easily."

"Okay," Claire said. "So maybe I've been helping out in Gotham, but is that a bad thing?"

"It's not a bad thing; it just seemed like you and the Batman weren't getting along before," Chloe replied. "But now if I had to guess, I'd say that you two are working together, so I want to know what happened."

"Nothing happened—I just found out more about who he is and why he's the Batman, and I realized that it made sense for us to be on the same side," Claire said. "And so when I heard there was trouble in Gotham last night, I decided to go help."

"Because you know more about the Batman?" Chloe asked, with an eyebrow raised.

"Yes," Claire replied hesitantly, sensing that Chloe might be looking for something more.

"So does that mean you know who the Batman is?" Chloe asked, bringing up the one topic that Claire didn't want to discuss. The Batman's identity still wasn't her secret to tell.

"Yes, I know who he is," Claire answered. "But no, I can't tell you, so don't ask."

"Okay. I guess I can respect that and your whole 'honor among vigilantes' thing," Chloe said, sounding disappointed. "But you have to give me some details."

"What details are you looking for?"

"Does he know who you are?" Chloe asked, moving to stand against the edge of Claire's desk.

"He knows I'm Claire Kent and he knows about some of my abilities, but I didn't tell him the rest," Claire answered.

"So he doesn't know that aliens live among us?" Chloe asked quietly, and Claire gave a subtle nod in reply. She hoped her friend was done, but unsurprisingly, Chloe had another question for her, "So are you two a team now, or were you just working together for the last few days and that's it?"

"We didn't decide on any specifics, Chloe. We just did what we had to and beat the bad guys, and we'll see where we go from here," Claire replied, turning back to her computer and trying to return to work.

"You don't have any specifics on a team-up and you won't tell me anything about his identity—okay, that's fine, but will you at least tell me more about him?" Chloe asked.

"What do you mean?" Claire questioned.

"What's he like?" Chloe began, and before Claire had the opportunity to inform her friend that the Batman was mostly broody and stubborn, Chloe asked more questions, "Does he have any abilities? Why does he do what he does? Is he hot?"

" _Is he hot?_ " Claire repeated in disbelief. She could understand the other questions, but the last one surprised her. "Seriously? Out of everything that you could've asked about the Batman, you're asking me that?"

"Well, if finding out his identity is off the table, then I have to cover the other essentials," Chloe replied.

"And his hotness is an essential?"

"I'm just looking out for you," Chloe said. "If you can't find a date as Claire Kent, then maybe it's time you start dating someone as the Blur, and in that case, yes, his hotness is an essential. So I ask again, is he hot?"

As she considered the question, an image of Bruce shirtless and putting on his armor suddenly entered Claire's mind, but she quickly pushed that thought aside. And thankfully, she was saved from having to answer Chloe's question by her cell phone ringing.

"Claire Kent," she said.

" _Miss Kent,_ " was the reply she received, in a thick British accent.

"Hi," she said, before covering the phone's mouthpiece and turning back to Chloe. "I need to take this," she whispered to her friend.

"Of course you do," Chloe said, before she moved away from Claire's desk. Claire would just have to deal with Chloe's inquisition later. For now, though, she turned her attention back to Alfred and told him to continue.

" _I do hope that you are doing all right today, after all of yesterday's excitement,_ " Alfred said.

"I'm fine, Al," Claire replied. "How about you and your boss?"

" _We're managing,_ " Alfred answered. " _It was a busy morning, with what happened at Wayne Enterprises and having to get settled in a new residence, but we're handling it. We've only just managed to make it back to the manor, though, to see what might have survived._ "

Claire suddenly remembered something from the prior night when she had left the mansion. "How many people are there with you?"

" _Only a handful. Why?_ " Alfred asked.

"I'm on my way," Claire said. With only a few other people there, Claire would be able to speed to the property without much trouble. She set off at a run and was at manor in no time.

She found Alfred quickly and said, "A face-to-face conversation seemed easier than a long distance one, Al."

"Well, it's always a pleasure, Miss Kent," Alfred said. "So you're certainly more than welcome here—or wherever else Master Wayne and I may be dwelling at a particular time."

"Thanks for that, Al," Claire said. "Speaking of Master Wayne—do you think he has a minute?"

"He's on the property somewhere, Miss Kent," Alfred replied. "And I don't believe he's so occupied that he wouldn't be able to see you."

"Thanks, Al," Claire said, before turning and heading further onto the property. She used her super-hearing and found that she was able to distinguish Bruce's heartbeat from those of workers cleaning up the place.

As she drew closer though, Claire realized there was someone else near Bruce, already having a conversation with him.

" _I was a coward with a gun,_ " she could hear Bruce say. " _Justice is about more than revenge, so thank you._ "

" _I never stopped thinking about you…about us,_ " the other person said, and Claire could tell it was a woman speaking. " _And when I heard you were back, I…I started to hope._ "

Claire could hear the woman drawing closer to Bruce, and when she looked through the remains of a wall with her x-ray vision, she could see them kissing.

Claire was beginning to feel that she was invading their privacy, but the woman soon pulled away from Bruce and said, " _Then I found out about your mask._ "

Claire realized that this woman knew Bruce's secret. Her own secret identity had been discovered by others in the past, and that had often led to trouble. She wondered what this woman might be planning to do with the information on the Batman.

" _Batman's just a symbol, Rachel,_ " Bruce replied. Claire could tell that Bruce was trying to convince Rachel to look beyond his alternate identity, but that wasn't exactly an easy request. Claire had first-hand knowledge of that.

" _No, this…_ " Rachel began, cupping Bruce's cheek, " _…is your mask. Your real face is the one that criminals now fear. The man I loved, the man who vanished—he never came back at all. But maybe he's still out there somewhere. Maybe someday, when Gotham no longer needs Batman, I'll see him again._ "

Claire could see the pained look on Bruce's face. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop on this personal conversation—her super-hearing sometimes just brought her more trouble than she wanted.

Rachel walked away from Bruce, headed toward an area of grass where cars were parked. Bruce remained in the same spot, standing next to an old well.

Claire knew she could speed away and come back as if she'd been nowhere near the scene, but she'd gone through ordeals similar to the one Bruce was now facing. She felt the need to offer some sort of encouragement after that moment of heartbreak.

Claire cleared her throat, loud enough for Bruce to hear it.

"I knew you were there," Bruce said, before picking up a hammer and nails and working to seal up the well.

"How did you know?" Claire questioned, as she approached Bruce. She'd been quiet, and she'd kept her distance during his conversation with Rachel.

He looked up at her from his work and simply said, "I'm Batman."

Bruce turned back to his task, as if he'd just explained everything thoroughly.

"Right," Claire replied, rolling her eyes. "Anyway, I didn't mean to overhear, but I did. So I just wanted to say that I've been doing this for a while, and it's never easy."

"What part's never easy?"

"All of it," Claire answered. "The dual identities, coming up with cover stories, lying to everybody, never really being yourself. You can kind of take your pick—none of it's easy."

Bruce didn't stop hammering, but he didn't tell her to stop talking either, so Claire decided to continue.

"Look, it was a gutsy move to tell your girlfriend—"

"She's not…" Bruce began, although he couldn't seem to put the thought into words.

"All right," Claire began again, "it was gutsy to tell your _friend_ the truth about your alternate identity, but it's also a risk. You're lucky she took the news the way she did and she's not running to the media right now."

"She wouldn't," Bruce replied sternly, clearly not wanting to hear Claire accuse Rachel of anything.

"Okay," Claire said. "Maybe _she_ wouldn't, but others won't always handle the truth like that. I'm speaking from experience on this. Not to mention the fact that it's dangerous for a person to be friends with a vigilante. If information like that gets out, people who know your identity would be in trouble."

"You think I don't know that?" Bruce replied. "I just needed her to know…in case I failed last night."

"I get it," Claire said, knowing how many times she had wanted to tell her own secret to the people closest to her. "And maybe one day she'll get it—how you're not the Batman for kicks, but you're actually trying to do good out there."

"And so now you think I'm trying to do good out there?" Bruce asked, with a slight smirk on his face and a quirk to his eyebrow.

"I still think you're a reckless brute," Claire replied, pausing before adding, "But there may be hope for you yet."

"Well, Miss Kent," Bruce began, "I think that may be the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"Don't let it go to your head, Wayne," she said. "And I didn't come here to have this particular conversation with you."

"Well, what does bring you all the way back to Gotham today?" Bruce asked.

Claire looked around, making sure the coast was clear. There weren't any workers nearby, so Claire took the opportunity to use her super-speed. She went to the woods on the edge of the property and recovered two items she'd left there the night before.

Claire then ran back to Bruce and put the items on the boards in front of him. One was a picture frame, which contained a photograph of a young couple, and the other was a wooden box. Bruce opened the box to reveal a string of pearls and a metal case with a stethoscope inside.

"How did you get these?" Bruce asked, sounding astonished.

"I'd seen them in your room, next to your bed, when I visited during your recovery," Claire replied. "I figured they were important to you, so I grabbed them before I left for the city last night. They got a bit singed," she added, running her fingers along the burnt edges of the box, "but otherwise they still seemed to be okay. I thought you might want them."

"Why did you do that?"

"You were letting your house burn down to go catch a bad guy," she said. "I didn't think you deserved to lose all of your stuff after doing something like that."

"And for something like this," Bruce began, looking down at the items before turning his gaze back to Claire, "I'd usually feel the need to say thank you."

Claire smiled at him and replied, "But people like us—with the business we're in—that's not something we need to hear, now is it?"

"No, it's not," Bruce said, smiling back at her.

"So, what will you and Al do? Get rooms in a hotel somewhere?" Claire asked, as she looked around the remains of the property.

"Actually, I own a hotel…and the penthouse in Gotham Towers," Bruce replied.

"Of course you do," Claire said. "And so are you just leaving this place behind?"

"No," Bruce answered. "I'm going to rebuild it… Just the way it was, brick for brick."

Claire heard Alfred approaching as Bruce spoke. He was in earshot for Bruce's last comment and asked, "Just the way it was, sir?"

"Yeah, why?" Bruce questioned.

"I thought this might be a good opportunity for improving the foundations," Alfred replied.

"In the southeast corner," Bruce added.

"You mean where you keep one of your cars, your tools, and your, well…pets?" Claire asked.

"Precisely," Alfred answered with a smile.

"Well, let me know if you need a hand with that," Claire offered.

"I will," Bruce replied earnestly, surprising Claire. He'd never seemed willing to accept her help before, but perhaps going through everything during the last few days had changed him.

"I guess I should get going," Claire said, turning first to Alfred and extending her hand for him to shake. "It's always good to see you, Al."

"And you as well, Miss Kent," Alfred replied, giving her a friendly handshake. "I do hope we'll be seeing you again soon."

Claire smiled at Alfred and then moved toward Bruce. "I'll see you around, Wayne," Claire said, as she offered her hand to Bruce.

He shook her hand warmly in response and said, "I'll see you around, Kent."

It was perhaps the most pleasant interaction they had shared, and for some reason, Claire felt a strange sadness at the thought of leaving. It seemed that somehow—after everything—she'd managed to find a friend in Bruce Wayne.

But Metropolis still needed the Blur, and between the oil rig and Ra's Al Ghul, Claire didn't feel that she'd been diligent in her duties to her own city. On top of that, she had to be keeping an eye on Lex Luthor. She didn't have time to be standing out here idly when there was work to be done.

So, with a final wave to Bruce and Alfred, Claire turned and sped back home.

* * *

Bruce held onto the stethoscope that had once belonged to his father as he watched Claire leave. The pearls that Claire had recovered had been his mother's, and the picture was one of the last photographs ever taken of his parents. These items were some of the last remnants of his parents, and to Bruce, they were irreplaceable.

And Claire had done more for him than just this good deed and helping him the previous night with Ra's. Somehow, her presence today seemed to soothe the sting of Rachel's rejection. Bruce expected to be heartbroken over Rachel's unwillingness to accept the Batman, but Claire had managed to lessen his pain. She understood him—even if Rachel didn't—and it was comforting to know he at least had Claire's acceptance.

Bruce still had reservations about how powerful Claire was, but that didn't keep him from knowing that he was in her debt. While the two of them might not feel a need to say thank you to one another, he owed her for everything that she had done, and after thinking on it for a moment, Bruce knew exactly how to repay her.


	14. Chapter 14

_**Author's Note:**_ _This is the last chapter in the_ Batman Begins _arc and serves as the starting point for the next part of the story. As in other chapters, there are deviations from_ The Dark Knight _films and_ Smallville _, and there's also a hint of another TV series I'm planning to incorporate into the story._

 _I want to thank everyone who has followed, favorited, and reviewed this story. Your responses have truly been inspirational to me._

 _Now, as always, thank you for reading!_

* * *

Lex sat in the study of his mansion, listening to his new, blonde assistant drone on about the latest election polls. He was still trailing behind Jonathan Kent, and he didn't want to hear it anymore.

Somehow his money, his power, his influence—none of it made a difference. No matter how much he spent or threatened, Lex just couldn't seem to gain any headway. According to his assistant, people just seemed to find Kent more likeable.

Lex downed the rest of his scotch at that thought. He was tired of hearing about the perfect Jonathan Kent.

The man had vexed him for years. At first, Lex had tried to impress Kent, attempting to make the farmer see that Lex wasn't his father. But that didn't last. Over time, Lex had gained a better understanding of the world—and what needed to be done to survive in it. He now knew that there was no denying that he was a Luthor. He was power-hungry and ruthless—just like his father had taught him to be.

Lex realized he'd been ignoring whatever his assistant was saying, but he managed to hear the end of her last comment.

"And our focus groups are indicating that you may want to consider changing your look," she said.

"What?" Lex asked.

"When asked, most people say that your appearance makes you seem unapproachable, or in their terms, 'snobby,' 'arrogant,' and a few other unattractive adjectives," she explained.

"Oh, really?" Lex said, as he stood up and went to a nearby table to pour himself another drink. "And what do you and these people suggest I do? Switch from Armani to plaid?"

He drank down half the glass before continuing, "Everyone knows I'm Lex Luthor—a billionaire CEO with a private jet and houses across the country. Ditching my suit won't make people forget who I really am."

"No, sir," the young woman replied. "But it might help make you seem more human. Kent is winning because he has that grassroots appeal. He's a farmer who's worked hard for everything he has. He's got the perfect family—a loving wife and a daughter who almost took a bullet for him."

"Don't remind me," Lex said, turning toward his lit fireplace and staring at the flames.

"But sir," his assistant began, but Lex wasn't going to listen anymore.

"Enough!" he yelled, as he threw his glass at the fireplace. The violent shattering seemed to make his assistant realize that now was not the time for this discussion.

"We can speak about this further in the morning," she said timidly, before backing away towards the exit and closing the doors when she left.

Lex let her leave. He knew that he needed to develop a plan to counter Kent's growing popularity—he was just having trouble accepting how his last plan had failed several weeks ago.

It had been perfect. The charity event had been scheduled to take place in Gotham, and Lex didn't even have a hand in deciding that location. The opportunity to bring Kent into that crime-infested city was just given to him.

And Lex knew that Kent wouldn't say no to this charity. Its purpose was to find homes for orphans, and Lex knew that Kent had a soft spot for orphans. Jonathan and Martha Kent had adopted Claire when they couldn't have children on their own. Although some of Claire's adoption was still shrouded in mystery, Lex was certain about why the Kents had taken her in, and because of that, Lex doubted that Jonathan Kent would pass up on the event.

And Lex's guess had proven to be right, which meant that the rest of his plan could be carried out. The gunmen were supposed to show up and take Lex and Kent hostage. At some point during their captivity, the men had been paid to kill Jonathan Kent, and Lex was to appear as if he'd found some means of escape.

What Lex hadn't told the gunmen he'd hired was that his escape was also going to involve their deaths. They were going to take out Kent, and then Lex, with the help of his security, was going to take them out—becoming a hero in the process.

Lex would've blamed Gotham. The city's corruption and depravity allowed menaces like the gunmen to run free, and it would take a leader like Lex to bring Gotham out of the darkness. There would be no way for him to lose the election after something like that.

And Lex was hoping he might accomplish even more that night. With Jonathan Kent gone, there would be one less barrier between Lex and Claire. Lex knew that her father had encouraged her to stay away from him. Kent had to have told her his thoughts on the Luthors, and no doubt, she had believed him. Claire clearly idolized her father, and Kent's opinion of the Luthors had to impact her own view on them.

But Lex's plan would have taken care of that too. After he'd brought down the gunmen, Claire would have seen Lex as the man who avenged her father. He would have seemed like a hero to her, and he would've been right there—a shoulder for her to cry on as she mourned the loss of her father. Claire would've trusted him with her secrets then.

How could she not?

The plan had been flawless—except for one detail: the Batman. The Batman had shown up and thrown Lex's entire plan out the window. The vigilante's interruption had meant that Kent had survived, ruining Lex's chance to regain the lead in this election and his opportunity to become closer to Claire.

Lex was unaccustomed to being denied something that he wanted, and he wanted Claire. From the first moment that they'd met, when she'd placed her lips on his to try to breathe life back into him, Claire had haunted him. She'd tasted like sunlight, and Lex had wanted to keep hold of her even then.

But she'd been a teenager at that point. If he'd admitted an attraction to her then, it would have caused him serious trouble. So Lex had been waiting as patiently as he could to make his move. He'd allowed a friendship to develop between them, and he'd hoped to one day turn that friendship into something more. Claire kept secrets from him—Lex was certain of that, but he believed that he could make her share her secrets with him eventually.

His efforts over the years had failed, though, and Claire had pulled herself farther away from him. She hid herself, buried behind a meek persona and modest clothes, but Lex was going to change that.

If his plan had worked—if he could've made Claire turn to him for comfort—he would've changed her into what he imagined she should be. With his money, Lex could've given her the life of a goddess, and he would've made sure that she looked like one too. He would've burnt every cheap piece of clothing that she owned and dressed her in silk and jewels.

And he would've claimed the warmth of her lips every night.

Just as Lex's thoughts were turning darker, the power in the mansion seemed to go out. Lex looked around the room, which was lit only by the fire behind him. From under the door, the hallway looked dark too, and Lex wondered what could've happened. There hadn't been a storm tonight, nor had anything else occurred that might cause an outage.

A noise that sounded like flapping fabric came from somewhere within the room. Lex knew that none of the windows were open, so it couldn't have been the curtains.

"Who's there?" Lex demanded, as he turned to look around the room.

"Just me," a gravelly voice responded from behind him.

Lex reached for the iron poker next to the fireplace and spun around to face the intruder. The Batman was in front of him, illuminated by the firelight.

Lex was surprised, but he didn't let his shock hold him back for long. He took the poker and swung, aiming for the Batman's head. The Batman managed to grab hold of his arm, though, stopping the attack before ramming Lex back against the wall. The force of the hit caused Lex to drop the poker.

"I know what you've done, Luthor," the Batman stated. "Did you think I wouldn't find out what you were up to in my city?"

Lex didn't know how, but apparently, the Batman had figured out that Lex was behind the attack at Gotham's Ritz Hotel. It was the only criminal act he'd committed in that city recently, so it had to be what the Batman was referring to. But Lex wasn't about to admit his guilt to anyone, let alone a psychopath in a Halloween costume.

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," Lex said. "But you've just broken into private property. You're trespassing here, and you've just committed assault. I'm going to take you down for this, Bat-boy."

A fist connected with Lex's stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He slumped, and the Batman let him fall to the ground.

"Do you think your threats scare me, Luthor?" the Batman questioned.

"No," Lex replied, before quickly rolling toward his desk. He managed to reach under it and pull out the gun he kept holstered there. "But this should scare you," Lex said, as he pointed the gun at the Batman.

Just as he pulled the trigger, though, a sharp piece of metal collided with Lex's wrist. The gun still fired, but the bullet went nowhere near its intended target. And that target was now advancing on him.

Lex tried to aim the gun again, but the Batman grabbed his injured arm and pulled the weapon out of his hand.

"A gun, Luthor?" the Batman said. "You really are a coward."

Voices could then be heard approaching from down the hallway. Lex's security team must have finally decided to make an appearance. After tonight, he knew that he needed to have a word with them about their obvious incompetence.

"Mr. Luthor!" one of his guards shouted from outside the doors to the study. Lex could tell that they were trying the knobs, but the doors weren't opening for them.

"Good luck getting past all of them," Lex said. "You should just call it quits now. There's no hope for you to escape this."

"I'll manage," the Batman replied, still gripping Lex's arm at an awkward angle that kept him kneeling on the ground and his upper torso pinned to his desk.

"And as for you, Luthor," the Batman continued. "You need to consider the consequences of your actions." At that, the Batman twisted Lex's arm until a sickening pop sounded. His shoulder had been dislocated.

Lex was in a tremendous amount of pain, but he could still hear what the Batman was saying to him.

The Batman grabbed him by the throat and said, "I'm going to be keeping an eye on you, Luthor. If I ever find you causing trouble in my city—or anywhere else for that matter, you won't like what happens next."

"I'm going to shoot out the doorknobs," one of the guards said. The statement was followed by the sound of bullets connecting with the door.

The Batman dropped Lex at that point, letting him fall face-first to the floor. Lex turned around to see where the Batman was going just as his guards entered the room. He looked franticly in every direction, but there was no sign of the masked menace.

"Did you see him?" Lex demanded of his guards.

"See who, sir?" one of them asked.

"Who was here, sir?" another asked.

It was in that moment that Lex realized he couldn't tell anyone in this room who had visited him. The Batman was a law-breaking vigilante, but to the public, he was known for confronting criminals. If he'd decided to go after Lex, then what did that say about Lex? He was trying to win an election. He couldn't take the negative publicity that would arise from an incident with the Batman. His assistant and security team would most likely keep quiet, but Lex wasn't going to risk it.

"It was an intruder," Lex answered finally, cradling his arm and moving to sit in the chair at his desk. "Go and find him," he added, knowing that the Batman was probably long gone already. Gotham's vigilante wasn't known for sticking around to be caught.

"Can you describe the intruder, sir?" his assistant asked, as the other men left the room to hunt down the man.

"He was tall, and he wore a black mask," Lex replied. "Now stop worrying about something that's the guards' job, and go get me a doctor!"

His assistant hurried out of the room, leaving Lex on his own. He'd been beaten—and not just physically. The Batman knew that he'd plotted the attack in Gotham, and it was quite possible that the vigilante also knew his intended target. Lex didn't know what the Batman planned to do with this information, but Lex didn't think it would be worth it to find out. He was already down in the polls, and if the Batman revealed to the public what Lex had done, then he would be finished.

Lex needed to change tactics. Jonathan Kent no longer seemed like a viable target, but Lex already had someone new in mind.

Lex needed to find out everything he could about this Batman.

* * *

"So have you heard the news?" Louis asked, as he sat down on the edge of Chloe's desk.

"We work at a newspaper, Louis," Chloe replied. "We hear news every second of every day, so you're going to need to be a little bit more specific on exactly what news you're talking about."

"The latest news on Luthor," Louis answered.

Claire's ears perked up at that. She'd been trying to keep a close eye on the billionaire since Bruce had confirmed that Lex was behind the attack on her father in Gotham, but now she worried that she'd missed something.

"What's the latest news on Luthor?" Claire asked.

"You have to see it to believe it, Smallville," Louis replied, taking over the keyboard and mouse on Chloe's desk.

"Hey!" Chloe exclaimed, as her cousin used her computer without her permission.

"You'll thank me later, Chloe, because you need to see this," Louis said.

Claire stood up and walked around so that she could see Chloe's screen. It looked like Louis was pulling up a video interview that Lex had done earlier in the day. Before the video even started playing, Claire could tell that something had gone on, just from the still image of Lex that was on the site. Lex's arm was clearly in a sling, and he was holding himself as if he had bruises on other parts of his body.

"What happened to him?" Claire asked.

"They're saying he had some kind of mishap on a ski trip he took this weekend," Louis answered. "But what kind of politician goes skiing and risks something like this happening?"

"Especially with the election so close," Chloe added.

"Exactly," Louis said. "I think something else went on here."

"What do you mean?" Claire asked. She knew that Lex had a dark side, and that it often led him to make bad decisions involving unsavory people. But everything that Claire knew about Lex wasn't common knowledge. People had their suspicions about him and how scrupulous his activities really were, but they didn't know how far Lex was willing to go—at least not like Claire knew.

"I'm just saying that I've never trusted Luthor, and I'm not the only one," Louis said. "He's bad news, and maybe somebody else figured that out and decided to do something about it."

"Who would attack Luthor, though? He's got a whole team handling his security," Chloe said.

"I'm sure there are a few people that aren't afraid of Luthor's bodyguards," Louis replied. "Maybe he double-crossed the wrong criminal, or maybe one of the world's masked vigilantes finally decided to teach him a lesson."

"Beating up a public figure doesn't seem like the Blur's style," Chloe said.

"I didn't say the Blur," Louis stated.

"Then who?" Chloe asked.

"Claire Kent?" a voice called from across the room. Claire heard the voice easily, even with the crowd of noisy reporters in the room, but she waited until the voice came closer before she responded. She didn't need Louis or anyone else at the Planet noticing her super-hearing. "Claire Kent?" the voice repeated.

"That's me," she said, as she meekly waved her hand at the person. It was a deliveryman, and he was carrying a small box.

"You're Claire Kent?" the man asked, and Claire nodded. "Sign here," he requested, giving her a pen and a clipboard.

Claire signed the appropriate line, and the man handed her the box.

"What's that, Smallville? Did you finally discover the wonders of online shopping?" Louis asked. He always teased her about her humble origins, and he used her hometown as a nickname.

"That's funny, Louis," Claire said, adjusting her glasses with one hand and holding the box with the other. "But I didn't order anything."

"So it's a mystery delivery?" Chloe said, as she went to play the video on her screen.

Claire could hear the interviewer begin questioning Lex as she went back to her desk with the box. She wasn't much of a fan of mysteries, so she decided to remove some of the surprise from this package.

" _It was an unfortunate accident,_ " Claire could hear Lex explain, as she used her x-ray vision to look inside. " _But despite my injuries, I'm more ready than I've ever been to get to work and help people._ "

Claire could see six cell phones within the box, but that was just another mystery to her. She didn't know who would be sending these to her or why.

" _What do you say to your critics, though, who argue that a ski trip during the campaign is just another sign that you can't relate to the people?_ " the interviewer asked.

Claire could see a piece of paper folded and tucked between two of the phones. She decided to go ahead and open the box, read the piece of paper, and hopefully find out what this delivery was really about.

" _I'm more than what my critics make me out to be,_ " Lex answered. " _I'm not afraid of their comments—or of anyone or anything else for that matter._ "

The words sounded like Lex, but there was something off about his tone. It lacked his normal self-assurance, but Claire wasn't sure what that meant. It could just be that his injuries were affecting him, but as she opened the box and pulled out the note, another possibility entered her thoughts.

" _I'm giving you spares in case you need them. Press 1 then SEND to reach me. – B,"_ the note read. Claire knew exactly who "B" had to be. The cell phones didn't look cheap, and this was a box of six of them. Plus, the initial B worked for either alternate identity used by the person Claire had in mind.

And Lex's injuries—they could have been from a ski trip, but Claire now wondered about that too. She knew the mysterious "B" could harm Lex Luthor like that and still manage to escape his security detail, but she didn't know why he would.

Claire looked at the note again and decided that she needed to find out. She grabbed one of the phones, before closing the box and tucking it in a drawer. She then made her excuses to Louis and Chloe and headed for the Planet's stairwell. Once she was there, she quickly climbed the stairs leading to the roof—one of the few places at work where she could find privacy.

Looking out over the skyline of Metropolis, Claire pressed the buttons that were on the note and waited for an answer.

" _I didn't expect to be hearing from you so soon,_ " Bruce's voice said clearly through the line.

"Well, I didn't expect to receive a box of cell phones today either, so I guess we're both having to deal with surprises, Wayne," Claire replied.

" _I figured you could use them,_ " Bruce said. " _With the situations you get yourself into, you're likely to lose a few cell phones along the way. Plus, I thought you might want to give a few away to the people you trust—your family, your friends. The phones are completely secure, so you don't have to worry about anyone unwelcome listening in._ "

"Why are you doing this?" Claire asked. Bruce seemed different from the way he'd acted during their first few encounters.

" _You proved me wrong,_ " he replied. " _I thought I could handle everything on my own—that it would be better if I handled things on my own. But you were right. I've needed your help over the past few weeks, and I'm alive because of your help—and I'm not the only one. I figure the next time there are lives at stake, I'd like to have an easy means of reaching you._ "

"You know that Al had my cell phone number, right?" Claire asked. "You could've just asked him for it, instead of sending these."

" _Well, I doubt your old phone was secured with the best encryptions that money can buy,_ " Bruce replied.

"No, it wasn't," Claire said. "But at least I could afford my old phone."

" _I'm not expecting you to pay for these, Kent. You can use them, and you know that money is no object for me,_ " Bruce said before asking, " _So, did you just call to reprimand me for sending you the phones?_ "

"No," Claire answered. "I wanted to ask you about Lex Luthor too."

" _What about him?_ "

"Have you paid him any visits lately?" Claire asked before adding, "I just saw him on the news, and he's clearly injured. He said it was from an accident during a ski trip, but…"

" _But the injuries look like they could've been inflicted by another person—someone attacking Luthor?_ " Bruce questioned, but from his tone, Claire suspected that he already had the answer.

"What happened?" Claire asked.

" _He'd been threatening your father. I wanted him to know that there was someone keeping an eye on him and make him think twice about going after your father again._ "

"But what if he starts targeting the Batman now?"

" _I just faced off against Ra's Al Ghul,_ " Bruce replied. " _I think I can handle Lex Luthor._ "

"You didn't have to do that," Claire said.

" _And you didn't have to pull me off the roof of a burning drug den after I'd been poisoned and shot, but you did that anyway,_ " Bruce replied. " _I may not have been a fan of the idea at first, but we can accomplish more if we're on the same side in this fight. And I know that the Blur can accomplish more if she doesn't have to worry about Lex Luthor all the time, or do you think I'm wrong, Kent?_ "

Claire was touched. She'd received help from others before, but Bruce truly had her back. She and Bruce didn't always take the same approach to justice, but his way was helping her right now, and she was grateful for that.

"Claire," she said.

" _What was that?_ "

"Claire is what my friends call me, and after all this, I think we're dangerously close to becoming friends, Wayne," Claire answered.

" _I would agree with that assessment,_ " Bruce said, with a lighter tone to his voice. " _And I'd ask you to return the favor and call me Bruce._ "

"I think I can do that," Claire replied, a smile forming on her lips. "And Bruce," she began, trying to think of how she could thank him for his help without actually saying the words. After a moment, Claire went with the phrase they seemed to use every time they parted.

"I'll see you around," she said. Those words were becoming a kind of promise between them. If he needed her, she would be there, and now she knew that he would show up if she ever needed his assistance.

" _I'll see you around, Claire,_ " he said, before hanging up the phone.

In the eastern corner of Metropolis, Claire could hear a siren going off. She sped through the Planet and changed into the spare Blur outfit she kept hidden there before running to the scene.

The new phone rested securely in her pocket.

* * *

A woman's yells could be heard from every corner of the old fortress.

"You fools!" she exclaimed to the men kneeling before her. "You failed my father, and for that, you will pay dearly."

"The man proved to be a greater foe than your father had expected," one of the men said, his head still bowed.

"I will not hear your pathetic excuses," she replied. "My father will soon be recovered, and once he possesses his full strength, he will make the traitor suffer, and you shall suffer along with him."

"But the traitor," another man began, "he wasn't on his own. He had help. That was why we couldn't stop him."

"I am aware of the traitor's associate," the woman said. "Both of them will soon learn the consequences of challenging the demon."


	15. Chapter 15

_**Author's Note:**_ _This chapter serves as the beginning of the next part of the story, which will focus on Bruce and Claire's joint efforts to save people and stop villains. Plotlines and characters from_ Smallville _, the_ Dark Knight _trilogy, and other DC comics, cartoons, and TV series will be referenced. They are the property of DC, and I am merely borrowing them for this story._

 _Now I'd like to answer a few questions. To highlander348, here are my responses to what you asked: (1) Claire is 25 at the start of this story. (2) I can't really specify what season of_ Smallville _we're in. I'm using multiple storylines from different seasons—for example, the Jonathan Kent campaign was in season 5 and Clark started working at the Planet in Season 8. I'm also planning on pulling a few plots from earlier seasons and moving them into Claire's adult life. I want to show Bruce's reactions to some of the troubles a Kryptonian faces on Earth, and I can't resist some of the earlier plots from_ Smallville. _(3) As for the League, Oliver, and Bart questions, one Guest reviewer was correct about the Arrow-Flash universe being on the horizon. Stay tuned for that! (4) Claire has a cousin in this story, but you'll find out more about that later. (5) Claire has the Fortress in this story, and again, you'll have to wait a bit for that._

 _To AraelDranoth, Bruce Wayne/Batman in this story will be a combination of different versions of the character throughout different media. I will be pulling primary plotlines for my story's Batman from the Nolan-verse, but I am also drawing inspiration from portrayals of him in comics and cartoons. I am a huge fan of Kevin Conroy's depictions of Batman in_ The Animated Series _,_ Justice League _, and other cartoons, so don't be surprised to see remnants of that side of Batman incorporated into this story._

 _Thank you to everyone who has favorited, followed, and reviewed this story. I hope that you enjoy where the story goes next._

 _And, as always, thank you for reading!_

* * *

Three weeks had passed since Bruce had brought down Ra's Al Ghul, and Gotham was still recovering from that night.

Jonathan Crane and a number of inmates from Arkham had managed to escape in the chaos that Ra's had unleashed, and some of them were still on the loose. The Blur had helped Bruce to round up as many of the criminals as possible, but some seemed rather gifted at evading capture.

Bruce spent his nights diligently hunting them down. And while he was determined to see these criminals back behind bars, he also had other cases to deal with.

Recently promoted Lieutenant Jim Gordon had been keeping the Batman apprised of cases that needed his attention. Gordon had set up a spotlight on the roof of his police station and would turn it on whenever he had information for the Batman. Police officers—and eventually the public—began referring to the light as the "bat signal," because Gordon had placed a bat-shaped piece of metal on top of it.

The projection of the bat into the night sky was a useful means for Gordon to contact the Batman, but it also served to discourage criminals. When they would see the signal, they knew that the Batman was patrolling—and that he might catch them if they tried anything.

The signal didn't stop all criminals, though, as evidenced by the group that Bruce and Gordon were currently trying to track down. They were kidnappers, and earlier that day they'd abducted two children from one of Gotham's wealthier families.

This group specialized in kidnappings, and there was a pattern to their operations. They'd been working in Gotham for the last year and a half, and their last abduction had been about four months prior to Bruce's return to Gotham. Each time they grabbed children from prominent families, demanded exorbitant ransoms, and after receiving the money, they would kill their victims. Bruce knew that he had to stop these people once and for all before they harmed anyone else.

Bruce had narrowed down their location to within a few blocks, but he hadn't been able to determine the specific building that they were using. The problem was that the buildings in this particular neighborhood were all connected through underground passageways running between their basements. Even if Bruce found out where they were hiding right now, there would be no guarantee that they wouldn't somehow escape through one of the tunnels before Bruce could apprehend them all and rescue the children.

Bruce and Gordon were standing on the roof of a building adjacent to the neighborhood, with only moonlight and streetlamps illuminating the area below. They were looking for any indication as to the kidnappers' location and assessing how they could pull off safely retrieving the children from their captors. Unfortunately, there was still no clear sign as to which of the buildings housed the criminals—each one was just as likely as the rest.

Bruce understood why Gordon was hesitant to call in SWAT to block off the neighborhood and go through each building. If the kidnappers thought they were being cornered, they might act out and kill the children. Bruce and Gordon needed to make sure that the children would be safe before they brought down this group.

"How do we do it, though?" Gordon asked. "If they see a cop, or if they find out that you're investigating the place, there's no way for us to stop them from killing those kids."

"There might be a way," Bruce replied, using the Batman's voice.

"What?" Gordon questioned.

Bruce turned away from Gordon and hit a button to call Claire through his earpiece.

" _Yes?_ " she answered on the second ring.

"The Blur is needed," Bruce said, before giving her the address of the building on which he currently stood. "Wear your mask."

" _Got it,_ " she replied.

"So what's your plan?" Gordon asked, before a rush of wind passed by both he and Bruce.

The gust turned into the Blur, who stood in her costume a few feet away from them. "Hi there," she said, in her distorted voice.

"You're…" Gordon began, but he was clearly stunned by what he had just seen.

"The Blur," Claire said, extending her gloved hand for Gordon to shake.

"Lt. Jim Gordon," he muttered. The Lieutenant managed to shake her hand, but he still seemed a bit taken aback by a person who'd seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

"We have a situation," Bruce spoke up.

"What kind of situation?" Claire asked.

"Kidnapping," Bruce answered. "Two children. The people behind it have done this before, and they don't hesitate to kill their hostages. They could be in any of the buildings in this neighborhood, and we need to find them before they hurt anyone."

Bruce explained to Claire about the network of tunnels and why the police force hadn't entered the area.

"We need to identify where they're held up, and move in," Bruce said. "Can you see them?"

"See them?" Gordon repeated. "How?"

Bruce didn't answer the question. He just watched as Claire went to the edge of the roof and looked out over the buildings.

After a moment, though, Claire cast her eyes downward and said, "I can't see them."

"Why not?" Bruce asked. He knew she had gifts, and one of them included uncanny eyesight. She'd seen through solid objects before, so Bruce didn't know what was stopping her now.

"I can't see them," Claire replied, looking up at Bruce. "But I might be able to hear them. How old are the kids?"

"Eight and ten," Gordon replied.

"Twelve of the houses have just two kids in them that would be about that age," Claire said.

"How do you know?" Gordon asked.

"A child's heartbeat sounds different than an adult's," Claire answered matter-of-factly, before asking, "How many kidnappers are there?"

"At least three have been confirmed to be part of the group," Gordon replied. "But there may be more."

"Only seven of those houses have three or more adults in them," Claire said. "I could narrow it down further from here, but…"

"But what?" Bruce asked.

"The adults—it sounds like they're speaking Russian," Claire replied. "If I knew what they were saying, I might be able to tell you the exact location, but I don't speak Russian…so I guess that means I'm just going to have to run through each of them."

She was starting to turn away, but Bruce grabbed her arm to stop her.

"I speak Russian," he said. "Can you sound out what they're saying and try to repeat it to me?"

"I can do you one better," Claire replied. Her distorted voice then disappeared, and in its place was a male voice followed by a female voice—both speaking in Russian. Bruce translated and determined that the two voices belonged to a butcher and his wife. He was complaining about the wife's brother who was living with them, and the wife was arguing about the way the husband ran his shop.

These weren't the people they were looking for, so Claire moved on to the next group. Three distinct male voices were speaking, and one even mentioned the mob. Bruce thought this house might be a possibility until he heard more of the conversation. It turned out that the three men were brothers discussing whether they should find new jobs, and one was considering employment with the mob. He thought that it would probably pay better than his current job at the docks.

Again, these weren't the kidnappers. Bruce was half tempted to tell Claire to just run through the remaining houses, when he heard Claire repeating a conversation that caught his attention.

"There," he said, and Claire stopped speaking. "Which building were you hearing that in?"

"From here," Claire began, looking out over the neighborhood, "it's three houses up and five over to the right. What were they saying?"

"They were discussing who was going to pick up the money, who was going to dispose of the bodies, and where they were going to meet afterward," Bruce answered.

"Bodies?" Gordon said. "Did they already—"

"No," Claire interrupted, knowing what Gordon was trying to ask. "The kids are still alive. I can hear them. They sound like they're in an interior room upstairs. One of the adults is just a wall away from them—maybe standing outside the door. There are four others downstairs in a room near the back of the house."

"Are you sure about all that?" Gordon asked.

"I'm positive," Claire replied, before once again turning back to Bruce. "So what's the game plan here? I take care of the bad guys, and you get the kids?"

"You get the kids," Bruce said. "I'll deal with the kidnappers."

"I don't know why I even ask," Claire said. "You know I could probably handle both tasks before you could even make it across the street."

"My city, my rules," Bruce replied. "Get the kids and bring them back here to Gordon. He'll make sure they're safe. And Gordon," he added, turning to the detective, "once the kids are out of there, your men can go in and make the arrests. We'll make sure the kidnappers are subdued."

"I'll be ready," Gordon said.

"And I'll be back this way in a minute," Claire said before speeding off.

Bruce followed her, jumping off the building and gliding toward the neighborhood.

* * *

Claire couldn't understand what the people were saying, but hearing them allowed her to know where they were within the house. She'd stopped right outside the building to listen once more before entering.

She was at a disadvantage with this place. The house was old, and it appeared that the walls had been coated in a lead-based paint, which made using her x-ray vision to see inside basically impossible. Lead was one material she couldn't see through.

Claire had her other abilities, though, and she always made the most of them. Four of the people were still downstairs, and the fifth was on the second floor, near the two children. Claire spotted a window above her, and the fifth person wasn't far from it. She quickly jumped and grabbed the ledge above the window. She was able to pull on the pane until it opened. The move took more time, but it was quieter than just jumping through and shattering the glass. Claire didn't want to draw any more attention than was necessary before she'd made sure the children were safe.

Once inside, Claire headed for the adult upstairs. Before he could even see her, she'd knocked him unconscious and went toward the room in which she could hear the children. The door was locked, but that was easy enough for her to deal with.

Claire forced the door open and went inside the room. The children were huddled together on the floor. It was a boy and a girl—both blindfolded with their hands tied behind their backs. Claire quickly broke their bindings to free their hands and then removed the blindfolds.

The movements startled the children—and Claire doubted that the sight of a masked person in front of them would make them feel any more comfortable. Before they could react to her appearance, though, she'd scooped them up in her arms and left the house the way she'd entered.

Claire was back to the rooftop where Gordon was in a matter of seconds. She set the children down in front of the Lieutenant and backed away. They were clearly still terrified about what had happened.

"It's okay," Claire said in her distorted voice. "You're safe now. This man is a police officer. He'll make sure you get home."

Both children looked at Gordon before turning their eyes back to Claire.

"Who are you?" the little girl asked.

"A friend," Claire replied. She then looked to Gordon as she said, "I'm going back to check on our mutual acquaintance."

"I'll call in the backup," Gordon said. "You two will need to be clear of that building before they get there."

"We will be," Claire said, moving to the ledge. "Pleasure meeting you, Lieutenant."

"You too, Blur," Gordon replied.

At that, Claire jumped off the building and returned to the house to offer the Batman a hand.

But it turned out her help wasn't needed. The other four kidnappers were already unconscious and tied up. Claire listened for Bruce to find out where he'd gone, and she heard him on a rooftop along the adjacent alleyway.

"You handled that faster than I thought you would," Claire said to Bruce once she reached him.

"I had to," Bruce replied. "I couldn't just sit by and let you take care of everything." His tone became more serious as he asked, "Are the children safe?"

"They're safe," Claire answered. "They're with Gordon right now, and the cops are on their way."

"So it's time for us to go," Bruce said.

"I guess so," Claire responded. "Any other cases you need a hand with?"

"Not tonight," Bruce answered.

"Good. I don't think I can take much more of your city, your rules," Claire said. "And if you're ever in Metropolis, you know you're going to have to play by my rules."

"We'll see about that," he replied, as he jumped off the rooftop, spreading his cape and gliding through his city.

"Yes, we will," Claire said, before running in the opposite direction.

* * *

Once he was back at the penthouse, Bruce changed out of his armor and headed for his computer. He'd set it up—along with the rest of his vigilante materials—in a concealed chamber accessible through a wall in his bedroom.

The place was originally designed to be a panic room for a wealthy resident. As such, the room was wired with a dedicated communication line and a network of security cameras. Bruce had upgraded the original technology, though, with help from Lucius Fox. The system now kept him apprised of criminal activity in Gotham and allowed him to search databases worldwide to investigate cases.

Despite the advanced equipment in the penthouse, the space still wasn't well suited for all of Bruce's needs. The garage underneath the building only had exits that led to public streets, which meant that Bruce couldn't house the Tumbler there. The vehicle was currently located on property he owned near the docks. There was an underground storage bunker on that site, in which Bruce planned to build a new base of operations—at least until the manor was finished.

The only problem Bruce was encountering—with both the manor and the bunker—was in handling his construction needs while still maintaining his secret identity. Billionaires sometimes made eccentric requests when having their homes built, but what he needed built for the batcave and the bunker by the docks might draw suspicion. His current project was dividing the work among different construction crews so that none of them saw too much.

Unfortunately, that meant it would take a decent amount of time before the Batman had a fully functional base. For now, the penthouse would have to do.

Bruce began the process of closing out the file on the kidnappers once he was seated. He maintained records on any troublemakers he found in Gotham, and he prioritized the data depending on the threat level. Given that the kidnappers were now in custody and their victims were rescued, the file on that group could be downgraded.

Bruce was opening another file when Alfred entered the room.

"So Master Wayne," his butler began, "will you be wanting a night cap or should I just fix you a very early breakfast at this point?"

"Neither, Alfred," Bruce replied, his eyes not leaving the computer screen. "What do you know about the Russian quarter of the Narrows?"

"Other than the fact that its population is primarily of Russian descent?"

"Yes," Bruce answered. "Other than that."

"Is this questioning something to do with the new mob boss gaining power in that community?" Alfred asked. "The one they call the Chechen?"

"No," Bruce replied. "It has to do with Claire."

"Miss Kent? What about her, sir?"

"She helped me with a case in the Russian quarter earlier tonight, Alfred," Bruce explained. "Something strange happened, though."

"Well, sir, Miss Kent's abilities do sometimes prove to be out of the ordinary," Alfred said.

"No, it wasn't that she used a strange ability. It was that she couldn't use one of her abilities tonight."

"What happened?"

"There was a kidnapping. Two children were taken, and we needed to locate them somewhere in this group of buildings," Bruce said, pointing to a section of a map on one of his computer screens. "I suggested that she use her enhanced vision, but she said she couldn't."

"Why not, sir?" Alfred asked.

"I don't know," Bruce replied. "She wouldn't tell me why, and then she just used her hearing to find the kids."

"So were you successful in rescuing the children?"

"Yes," Bruce said. "She got them out of there, and I dealt with the kidnappers."

"Well then, sir, I don't see what the issue is," Alfred replied. "Perhaps she used one ability instead of the other, but you were still successful."

"I'm just trying to understand what happened, Alfred," Bruce said.

"You mean you're just trying to understand Miss Kent," Alfred retorted.

"Her abilities are unlike anything I've seen before. Someone needs to understand them."

"If you're so concerned with how Miss Kent's abilities work, why don't you just contact her and ask her about them? Then you can ask her why she didn't use her special sight this evening," Alfred said.

"That's not what I'm looking for, Alfred," Bruce replied. "I'm trying to figure out her abilities on my own."

"And catalog them?" Alfred asked, after looking at another one of Bruce's computer monitors. On the screen, there was information on Claire and the Blur.

"Someone needs to know her limits," Bruce began, "in case anything happens."

"You don't trust Miss Kent?"

It was a complicated question. Bruce trusted Claire, but power like hers had to be kept in check. Something would need to be done to stop her if her good nature ever changed or if anyone tried to force her to use her abilities for dark purposes. In the latter situation, Bruce would try to find a way to help Claire. His first course of action would be to go after the person threatening her and deal with them, just as he had dealt with Lex Luthor. If that effort failed or if the former situation arose, Bruce might need to know how to face Claire in a fight. He didn't enjoy the thought of that possibility, but he knew that he needed to be ready for it. And letting Claire know about his preparations would leave him at a disadvantage if that outcome ever did occur.

Bruce had the feeling that Claire would understand. It wasn't her disposition to want to cause harm; she would want to be stopped if she were ever using her abilities to hurt others. And Bruce couldn't stop her until he knew the details of how her abilities worked.

Now Bruce just needed to make Alfred understand that.

"I trust her, Alfred," Bruce replied. "I just don't trust everyone else. I need to be ready in case someone finds a way to take advantage of her abilities…or in case anything else might happen to make her a threat. And I'm not going to involve her in this—and that's as much to protect her as it is to protect everyone else _from her_ if it comes down to it."

"And so now you want to figure out why Miss Kent didn't use one of her abilities in the Russian quarter—without asking Miss Kent?" Alfred posed. His butler sighed then, and for a moment, Bruce couldn't tell if that meant Alfred felt disappointment or acceptance.

"The buildings in that area," Alfred finally began, "the only thing I know about them is that they're older than I am."

"They are," Bruce said, pulling up schematics of the neighborhood on one of his screens.

"Well, sir," Alfred said, reading the monitor over Bruce's shoulder, "I'm surprised the authorities haven't condemned most of the buildings. These reports here on fires being caused by faulty wiring and tenants experiencing medical issues from the mold and lead-based paint there—you would think that the buildings would have been torn down by now."

"You would think that," Bruce repeated, before pausing to consider what Alfred had mentioned. "What did you say about the paint?"

"It was lead-based. They've stopped using that sort of paint because it's rather poisonous, but some of the older buildings in the city still have walls coated with it," Alfred answered. "Do you think the paint may have had some effect on Miss Kent's abilities?"

"Lead is sometimes used to create shielding against radiation," Bruce replied. "They use it to protect people around x-ray machines."

"And an x-ray machine is one way to see through an outer layer of something," Alfred added. "Do you think Miss Kent's vision somehow works like an x-ray—and that it can be blocked by lead?"

"It's a possibility, Alfred," Bruce said. "I'd have to test the theory to confirm it."

"Or ask Miss Kent when the next opportunity arises?" Alfred suggested.

"We'll see, Alfred," Bruce replied, making a note of the lead theory in Claire's file before pulling up another file on his screen. "Right now, I need to move on to my next case."

"Which is, sir?"

"Illegal weapons being smuggled into Gotham," Bruce answered. "The reports suggest that the shipments are coming in by sea, and someone at the docks is helping to move them into the city."

Bruce continued to scan through the information on his screen, adding, "The police have an idea of whose ships are involved, but they can't seem to get solid proof."

"Well, does the Batman have any leads he could pursue to acquire the necessary evidence?" Alfred asked.

"One," Bruce said. "The ships in question—they all stopped at the same port prior to arriving in Gotham. At the ports before that, the ships' manifests check out fine, but once they get to that other city and then to Gotham, that's when there seems to be trouble."

"You think the weapons are being loaded on the ships in the other city, and then brought back to Gotham?" Alfred asked.

"Yes, that's what I think," Bruce replied. "And I also think I should take a look at the shipping operations in this other city."

"And what city is it that you'll be visiting, sir?"

"We'll both be visiting this place, Alfred," Bruce replied.

"Will we? And just what will we be doing?" Alfred asked.

"I think it's high time that Bruce Wayne takes the opportunity to visit Wayne Enterprises' Metropolis branch, don't you?"


	16. Chapter 16

_**Author's Note:**_ _I just wanted to say that I appreciate all of the feedback I have received on this story. I am truly thankful for everyone's responses!_

 _To answer Arael Dranoth's question, this story is definitely slow burn, but Claire and Bruce will become closer in the chapters ahead._

 _Now, as always, thank you for reading!_

* * *

Standing on a runway amid a crowd of reporters, Claire couldn't shake the feeling that she was about to face one more problem. And with the day that she'd been having, that didn't surprise her.

Her troubles had begun when her editor Perry White had assigned her to work with Cat Grant for the afternoon. Claire would have preferred to help Chloe with her story, investigating a series of thefts and assaults that had been occurring around the docks. Chloe was on her way now to interview a few of the dockworkers to try to find new leads while Claire was stuck with Cat.

Unfortunately for Claire, Cat wasn't the nicest reporter at the Planet. She tended to be overly critical, and her high-pitched voice grated on Claire's sensitive hearing. And even without her abilities, Claire believed she could still pick up on Cat's current phone conversation from a mile away.

Claire watched her co-worker, clad in a tight, pink dress and four-inch heels, as she argued on her cellphone about the anti-vigilante article she'd been working on. Changes were being made to Cat's latest draft, and she didn't seem pleased to hear about them. Claire could hear both sides of the discussion. The person on the other end of the line was trying to inform Cat that the story couldn't be published as written—it was too opinionated, and it needed to be more fact-based to appear in a news column in the Planet.

But Cat wouldn't hear it. "Don't you know how dangerous these people are?" she insisted. "We can't mince words when we talk about them. The world deserves to know the truth."

" _Your beliefs aren't the truth unless you can back them up with solid evidence,_ " the editor replied. " _You need to remember that, Cat._ "

"I _need_ to get back to work," Cat stated harshly. "I have another story to cover."

Cat then ended the call and stuffed her phone into her purse. "Honestly, Kent, some people are just blind to reality," she said.

"Uh…I don't know what you mean," Claire responded.

"Of course you don't," Cat said. "No one wants you to know the truth. They want you to think that these vigilantes are actually good guys when really they're nothing more than freaks."

Claire didn't reply. She didn't want to encourage Cat to continue her rant against vigilantes. As she heard a plane approaching the tarmac, Claire turned her attention to the other problem she needed to deal with today.

The assignment that Cat and Claire were at the airport to work on involved covering the arrival of Bruce Wayne to Metropolis. Bruce was apparently coming to town to check out his company's holdings here. Cat had volunteered for the job; she was eager for the chance to meet the handsome billionaire.

Claire, on the other hand, wasn't as excited about the visit. For one thing, Bruce hadn't let her know about his imminent arrival; the first she'd heard about it was when Perry White had told her she was going to the airport with Cat. Before that, Claire hadn't received any notice that Bruce was on his way—and whether this trip was just about Bruce Wayne or if his alter ego was somehow involved.

The plane landed, and Claire wondered when she would have some answers. She couldn't just go up to Bruce in front of all these people and ask him what was going on. Plain Claire Kent didn't have a reason to carry on a lengthy conversation with the man the media called the "prince of Gotham," so unfortunately, she'd just have to wait for the right moment.

Once stairs were wheeled out, the plane's door opened to reveal Bruce standing there in an expensive blue pinstripe suit. He remained at the top of the stairway long enough for the photographers to take a few decent shots of his arrival, and he wore the fake grin that Claire had come to associate with the playboy billionaire part of his personality. But as his eyes scanned the group and he spotted Claire, she managed to catch a glimpse of the real Bruce underneath.

Bruce's gaze quickly moved on, though, and he waved to the crowd before heading down the stairs to meet them.

"Quick, Kent," Cat said, turning toward her. "Do something useful and tell me how I look."

"What?" Claire asked. She'd heard Cat; she just didn't understand Cat's request.

"That's _billionaire_ Bruce Wayne, so I need to know—how do I look?" Cat asked.

"Um…fine," Claire said after hesitating.

"That's a helpful opinion," Cat said sarcastically, pulling a compact mirror out of her purse. "You really are useless, Kent. Why didn't you say my lipstick was practically gone?"

Before Claire could reply, a voice beside her said, "Miss Kent!"

Bruce approached her with his hand extended, offering it to her. Claire didn't like this—meeting out in public so openly—with him acting as if he were greeting an old friend. She didn't know what had possessed him. How was he going to explain why a billionaire from Gotham would come up and speak to a lowly Metropolis reporter like this?

The cameras were following Bruce's movements, and they no doubt now included Claire in their frames. Not wanting to make the scene worse, Claire shook his hand quickly and muttered a welcome to him.

"It's great to see you again, Miss Kent," Bruce said.

Cat then cleared her throat and moved in between Claire and Bruce. She offered her hand to him, saying, "Mr. Wayne, I'm Cat Grant from the Daily Planet. Welcome to Metropolis."

"Thank you, Miss Grant," Bruce replied smoothly, shaking her hand. "It's a pleasure to be here."

"So what brings you to our fair city?" Cat asked, trying to sound charming.

"I'm here to visit Wayne Enterprises' Metropolis branch," Bruce replied. "Among other things," he added in a sly tone. "I wouldn't mind getting to know the residents of this city better."

Cat was eating up this attention from Bruce, but his behavior was hitting a nerve for Claire. From what she could tell, it was just an act, but it was still bothering her.

"And actually right now I'd like to have a word with Miss Kent," Bruce said, his gaze moving from Cat to Claire. "If you have a moment?"

"Oh, you don't want to bother with Kent," Cat interjected, trying to stay in front of Bruce. "She'll bore you to death."

"Now, I know that's not true," Bruce said. "I'd actually go so far as to say I consider Claire a friend."

"You're friends with Kent?" Cat said, disbelievingly. "Why?"

"Well, I'm a contributor to her father's campaign," Bruce said. "And Claire and I became acquainted at an event her father attended the other night. I didn't want to be rude today and not see how she and her father are doing."

"Aren't you sweet?" Cat said.

"I try," Bruce replied with a smile.

"We're fine," Claire added quickly. "My father and I…were both…um…fine."

"Glad to hear it," Bruce said, before a familiar voice called out from further down the runway.

"Master Wayne, your car is ready," Alfred announced. Claire turned to see the butler standing beside a fancy black car with tinted windows.

"I guess you should be going," Claire asserted. She wanted to know why Bruce was here but not among all these cameras. Once he and Alfred were on their own, then Claire could ask him questions—but not here.

"I guess I should. My ride is waiting," Bruce said, moving toward the vehicle, but Cat managed to step in Bruce's path once again.

"Mr. Wayne," she began, sounding as flirtatious as possible, "if you need any help navigating your way around Metropolis or recommendations on some of our hot spots, call me." She handed him a business card before leaning on his arm and whispering in his ear, "My personal cell phone number is on the back."

"Well, Miss Grant, now that you mention it, I was thinking about trying Club 29 for dinner tonight," Bruce replied, still wearing his fake smile. "Would you care to meet me there at eight o'clock—if you're free, that is?"

"Totally," Cat answered, unable to hide her glee at the invitation.

"Great. I'll see you then," Bruce said. He then gave a brief nod to Claire and walked to his car.

Claire's eyes didn't leave Bruce as he made his way into the backseat of the vehicle, and apparently her staring didn't go unnoticed.

"Oh please, Kent. He was just being nice to you, but clearly he wants to spend time with a real woman," Cat said from beside her. "Bruce Wayne is so far out of your league that you're just being pathetic."

"Right," Claire muttered under her breath. From what Claire had observed, the interest that Bruce had shown in Cat had seemed fake. Claire didn't know why he'd bothered to ask Cat out for dinner, but she didn't tell her coworker that. Claire didn't need to carry on a conversation with Cat at that moment; she needed to be ditching her and catching up to Bruce.

"Look," Claire began, "I have to…um…take care of something for…for another story, so I'll make my own way back to the office…okay?"

"Whatever, Kent," Cat replied, turning her back on Claire. "I don't care what you do…"

Cat continued speaking, but Claire stopped listening. Once Cat had turned away, Claire went after the speeding vehicle. When she reached the car, she opened one of the doors and sat down on the backseat next to Bruce.

"So," she began, looking at Bruce, "are you going to tell me what you're doing here?"

"Hello to you too, Claire," Bruce replied.

"I thought we already covered the hellos out there—with everybody's eyes watching," Claire said.

"You sound concerned."

"Of course I'm concerned," Claire said. "This is my city you're parading around in, and you're causing me trouble."

"Now, I never said that to you whenever you decided to visit Gotham," Bruce said.

"I never showed up to a public place where my presence would draw attention and raise questions for you."

"You think I'm trying to raise questions?" Bruce asked.

"I think your excuses for why billionaire Bruce Wayne would stop by and chat with nobody reporter Claire Kent were flimsy at best," Claire replied. "What happens if someone does some digging into that contribution you said you made?"

"Then they'll find out that I made a large contribution to your father's campaign yesterday," Bruce stated.

"You did?" Claire asked.

"Yes, I did," Bruce answered. "I wanted to be able to have a conversation with you without raising questions—no matter what identity either of us is using at the time. And on top of that, your father is the better candidate for the job as far as I'm concerned."

"I don't disagree with you on that," Claire said. "But I'm still curious as to the real reason why you're here."

"So you don't think I'm here to inspect Wayne Enterprises' holdings in Metropolis?" Bruce asked.

"I think that sounds like a good cover as to why you're here," Claire replied. "But I think if this were really an inspection of your company, then you'd have sent Fox. He is the one in charge of your business, isn't he?"

"He is," Bruce answered. "And I do have other reasons for being here."

"Which are?"

"I'm investigating a case that's led me to Metropolis," Bruce said.

"And what's your plan?" Claire asked. "If Batman is seen here while Bruce Wayne's in town, then that's going to cause you trouble."

"That's why I'm hoping I can convince the Blur to help me with this one," Bruce answered. "Are you free tonight?"

"You're not free tonight," Claire replied. "I just heard you make plans with Cat Grant."

"I don't have any intention of having dinner with Miss Grant," Bruce said. "It's just part of my cover. I'll ask a few women out tonight to different places, and I won't show for any of them. There'll be a trail of places where people would think Bruce Wayne should be, and then when I'm not at any of them, people will just assume I found somewhere else to go."

"So you'll just stand all those women up?" Claire asked. She knew he was trying to maintain his alternate identity as a rich playboy—and part of her felt like Cat deserved to be stood up, but she couldn't help but feel bothered by Bruce's methods. "That seems a bit harsh," Claire added.

"It's effective," Bruce said in a cold tone. "It allows me to maintain the appearance of a lifestyle that everyone thinks Bruce Wayne should have, while giving me my nights to get my real job done."

Bruce paused before adding, "So I'll see you tonight? I'm staying at the penthouse suite in the Plaza."

"I can't," Claire replied. "I have other plans."

"You can cancel them," Bruce said.

"No, Bruce," Claire began, "unlike you, I don't make plans that I can just ignore. Unless there's an emergency, I can't meet with you tonight."

It wasn't a lie. Claire did have plans for the evening. She wasn't exactly looking forward to those plans—in fact, they were just another problem she was dealing with today, but she still wasn't going to just back out of them.

"You do realize the importance of the work that we do, don't you?" Bruce asked. "That we aren't just playing some game when we go out there and fight crime?"

"I do realize that," Claire asserted. "But I also realize that I am just as much Claire Kent as I am the Blur, and sometimes I have to find a balance between the two. So I guess that means you're on your own for tonight."

"Fine," Bruce replied disappointedly.

"Fine," Claire said back to him, before looking toward the butler. "Al, it's always a pleasure to see you."

"Likewise, Miss Kent," Alfred said, glancing back at her from the rearview mirror and offering her a smile.

Claire nodded at him before exiting the vehicle. She had things to take care of prior to her plans tonight, including helping people that she could currently hear calling out for the Blur throughout her city.

* * *

Bruce let out an angered sigh after the car door closed across from him.

"I take it Miss Kent's response wasn't what you were hoping for, sir?" Alfred asked from the driver's seat.

"No, it wasn't," Bruce replied, turning his gaze out the window.

"So will the Batman be investigating this case on his own then?"

"Possibly, but not until after dinner," Bruce answered.

"Oh really, sir?" Alfred replied, sounding surprised, and Bruce knew why. He usually avoided socializing unless he was trying to maintain his public persona of Bruce Wayne, so suggesting going to dinner was unlike him. "And where would you like to dine this evening?" his butler asked.

"Wherever Miss Kent is dining, Alfred," Bruce answered.

A few hours later, Alfred was driving him to Metropolis' Central Avenue Hotel. In addition to its lobby, the hotel had a bar and restaurant on its first floor. Bruce knew that Claire was currently there. The phones he'd given her included tracking devices that only he could follow. Tonight he'd tracked the phone she'd used to call him before. It had moved across the city this afternoon along the same path as a series of police reports, all of which included some mention of the Blur. The signal had stopped at Claire's apartment building for a time until it had moved on to the hotel.

"Do you have a plan, Master Wayne?" Alfred asked from the front seat.

"What do you mean, Alfred?" Bruce replied.

"A plan, sir?" Alfred repeated. "For ruining Miss Kent's date?"

"I'm not intending to ruin her date," Bruce stated. "I'm just doing some reconnaissance."

"On Miss Kent?"

"On the situation, Alfred," Bruce replied. "You can head back to the Plaza after you drop me off."

"Yes, sir," Alfred said, as he pulled up to the hotel.

Bruce exited the car, but Alfred's words resonated with him. He'd told himself that he was just looking into Claire's priorities—making sure she understood the importance of what they were doing. Even though he was keeping tabs on Claire and her abilities, Bruce knew that she was his best ally in the battle he was waging on injustice, and he needed her to see that.

Still, Bruce couldn't deny that he felt somewhat guilty about the tactics he was now using, but that guilt didn't stop him from making his way into the entrance hall of the hotel.

The place was ornate with marble floors lining its hallways and crystal chandeliers hanging from its ceiling. Bruce had heard of the hotel before; it had a reputation for being one Metropolis' finest. Whoever was taking Claire out tonight had made a good choice on the venue—and for some reason that bothered Bruce. He started to realize that it wasn't just Claire's priorities that were aggravating him; it was the thought of her being here with someone else that was upsetting him.

Bruce didn't hold that thought for long, though, because he soon saw a familiar face walking toward him. Claire was making her way down a hallway in front of him. It was interesting to watch her in public. Bruce knew that she could cross the distance in a second, but now she made her strides short—and almost clumsy. At times, she made it look as if she were caught up in her long burgundy dress.

When she drew closer, though, Bruce could see in her eyes that she was more than what simple Claire Kent seemed to be. Bruce knew why most people failed to see it. They would have to look past her downcast gaze and thick glasses, and he knew firsthand that people generally weren't that observant.

"Mr. Wayne," Claire said.

"Miss Kent," Bruce replied. "What a surprise seeing you here."

"Funny. It's not a surprise for me to see you here," Claire responded.

"Really?" Bruce said.

"No," Claire replied, speaking in a hushed voice. "The surprise was a bit spoiled for me when I heard you and Al talking in your car about a block away."

"I see," Bruce said.

"What does surprise me is that you were able to find me," Claire added, before asking, "So how did you do that?"

"I have my ways," Bruce answered.

"It's the phone, isn't it?" Claire said. "I don't hear anything else on me that might sound like a tracking device."

"It's the phone," Bruce said, knowing there was no point in lying to her. She hadn't sounded angry, though, so Bruce decided to be open with her. "I figured if you ever called me needing help, I could get to you faster if I knew exactly where you were."

"Or if you ever needed to track me down when I said I wasn't free to help you," Claire replied, "then you would have the means to do that too."

"Well I don't see your date standing here, upset over the interruption to the evening," Bruce stated.

"Honestly," Claire said, shaking her head before a slight smile appeared on her lips. "You really think I'm so desperate for a date that I'd turn down helping you with a case just to go out on one?"

Bruce was caught off guard by that. He wondered what drew her here tonight then if it wasn't a date. There wasn't an event for her father's campaign, and she didn't look like she was here for work. She looked too nice for that. Her dress wasn't revealing with its high halter neck, but her shoulders were bare, and there was no press badge in sight. Her appearance fit her everyday personality, and while others might only see a timid, plain young woman, Bruce couldn't ignore how attractive she looked.

Before he could ask what brought her here, Claire continued, "You should go. Tonight's going to be enough trouble for me as it is without Bruce Wayne here to complicate things."

"What do you mean?" Bruce asked, now slightly concerned about whatever Claire might be facing.

Her eyes left his then and moved behind his shoulder.

"Grandfather!" she exclaimed, as a wider smile appeared on her face. She moved around Bruce, and added, "I'm so glad you made it."

"I see that your father hasn't, though," the older man behind him said disapprovingly. Bruce turned around to face Claire's grandfather. He was a short, stout man, but his demeanor seemed imposing. "I suppose Kent's never learned the virtue of punctuality," he added.

"Well," Claire began, sounding more like her meek personality, "he and Mom did have a longer way to travel to get here than we did, and I'm…um…sure that they'll be here soon."

"Just like your mother," he said with a sigh. "Always trying to make excuses for that man. I'll never know what he's done to deserve that kind of loyalty."

Claire pushed her glasses up her nose as she explained, "I've always thought of him as a good man…and a good father…and—"

"And a good political candidate," Bruce interrupted. It was painful for him to watch this scene. Claire clearly cared for her father, while her grandfather did not. And for some reason, he couldn't just stand by and let this continue. Instead, Bruce decided to offer his own thoughts on the matter. "Jonathan Kent's supporting businesses without forgetting about the people behind them—that's not an easy feat for a politician."

"And you are?" the older man asked, eyeing him critically.

"Bruce Wayne," he replied, offering his hand for the other man to shake.

"William Clark," Claire's grandfather said, shaking Bruce's hand firmly, despite his age.

"Mr. Wayne is…um…in town to inspect his…his company's holdings," Claire added. "I just ran into him, and he, well, wanted to say that he supports Dad's campaign."

"Is that a fact, Mr. Wayne?" William asked.

"I agree with most of Kent's views," Bruce replied. "And I can't say I ever agree with giving Lex Luthor more power."

"I can't fault you there, Wayne," William replied, with less judgment in his tone. He then asked, "Are you having dinner here tonight?"

"I'm sure Mr. Wayne has plans for the evening somewhere," Claire answered for him.

"Actually," Bruce began, "my plans for the evening were just cancelled, and I haven't had a chance to make new ones yet." He gave Claire a smile at that, which she didn't return.

"Good," William replied. "You should join us. I could use a neutral party at our table if I'm going to make it through a night with my son-in-law."

"Speaking of," Claire said, looking past her grandfather to a couple walking through the main entrance. Bruce knew what Jonathan Kent looked like. He hadn't introduced himself in Gotham, but Bruce had seen Kent's face in the advertisements that had aired during the campaign. He was as tall as Bruce, with sandy-blonde hair turning gray along the edges and tan skin that reflected a life of hard work.

Beside Jonathan Kent was a woman that Bruce recognized, both from the news stories about the election and his research into Claire. Martha Kent was about as tall as her father, meaning that she was close to six inches shorter than Claire. She had red hair and a kind face.

Seeing Claire's parents, Bruce could understand where she'd learned her good and honest nature. They greeted her with warmth when she approached.

"Well isn't this a surprise?" Martha exclaimed as she hugged her daughter tightly.

"Dad and I figured you would guess that we were planning something if we had you go out on your birthday week," Claire said with a smile. "But we thought we'd be able to get away with it if we did something two weeks before your birthday."

"You succeeded," Martha replied.

"And there's more to the surprise," Claire said, looking back at her grandfather.

"Dad," Martha said, before she went toward William and embraced him. The older man returned his daughter's hug, and his face lost a bit of its sternness.

Before William seemed to become too sentimental, though, he backed away from his daughter and said, "Let's go. The table's waiting."

The older man then added, "And this is Bruce Wayne. He'll be joining us for dinner. Perhaps you know him?"

"I can't say that we've ever met," Martha replied, offering a hand for him to shake.

"No, I haven't had that pleasure yet, Mrs. Kent," Bruce said smoothly, taking Martha's hand and kissing the back of it. "Your father was kind enough to invite me to dinner, but I didn't realize I'd be intruding on a family get-together. I'll just be going."

"Nonsense, Wayne," William spoke up. "It'll liven up the conversation to have someone else at the table, and I doubt any of the Kents will mind—especially given that you support their side in this election."

"You're welcome to join us, Mr. Wayne," Martha added earnestly.

"Only if it's no trouble," Bruce replied.

"It's no trouble at all," Martha said, before turning and walking with her father toward the restaurant.

Claire followed a few steps behind her mother and stopped in front of him for a moment to whisper, "It's trouble—no doubt about it."

Bruce didn't know what she meant until her father followed behind her. Jonathan Kent looked at him warily, before speeding up and putting his arm around his daughter's shoulders protectively.

She was introvert Claire Kent around her grandfather—that much was clear. But her parents had to know who she truly was. The first meteor shower had occurred when Claire was a toddler, so her abilities must have developed while she lived on the Kent farm.

Her parents had to know that Claire was the Blur.

Now the question was how long would it take for them to figure out that he was the Batman—and how would they react once they knew.

* * *

Chloe was on to something. She was certain of that.

While looking into recent crimes at the docks, she'd noticed a pattern. The criminal activity had only been happening in certain areas. Police and private security were now closely monitoring those places, while other sections of the port were almost completely ignored.

Chloe feared there might be more to the situation than just petty crimes. It almost seemed as if someone were orchestrating the robberies and muggings in order to draw people's attention away from particular docks.

She knew there was one way to confirm her theory, and she also knew that she should act quickly. Her questions to the dockworkers today might have aroused someone's suspicions, and she didn't want to give any bad guys the opportunity to flee before she could find out what they were up to.

Normally Chloe would call Claire to help her look into a situation like this, but Chloe knew that Claire had a busy night planned, and she didn't want to interrupt that. She figured she could head to the questionable piers and take a look around without needing to call in her super-powered friend. She was just going to do some surveillance; it wasn't as if she was going to involve herself in anything serious.

Chloe told herself that as she rounded a darkened corner next to an old warehouse along Pier 57. It was quiet, but Chloe could see lights on inside the building.

She drew closer to a window and looked inside. She could see men moving around among stacked crates. Some of the crates were open, and the men seemed to be unloading whatever cargo the boxes held. And then she saw the reason why.

One man approached a newly emptied crate carrying several serious-looking guns. He loaded the weapons into the box and then began to reseal it.

Chloe realized what was going on. These men were replacing the original cargo with guns, and then they were going to send the crates on to some other destination. This wasn't just simple smuggling of rare goods. No doubt whoever planned on buying those weapons meant to cause substantial harm, and Chloe knew that she needed backup to stop this.

Chloe reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. She began to dial Claire's number when she heard a metallic click next to her ear and felt something hard press against the back of her head.

"Don't move," a gruff voice said from behind her. A hand then shot out and pulled her phone out of her grasp.

"Turn around," the voice demanded, and Chloe complied only to find herself facing a grim man with a gun pointed directly at her. He was a foot taller than she was and had a wide, muscular build. Chloe knew if she tried to use her self-defense moves against him, she would lose.

"Who are you?" he questioned, but Chloe couldn't seem to find her voice. "What are you doing here?" he asked before looking down at the phone. "Planning on calling the cops?"

He dropped the phone, letting it fall to the pavement, but that didn't seem to be sufficient for this guy. He proceeded to violently step on the device, ensuring that it was broken.

"Now the boys and I are going to ask you a few questions," the man said, grabbing her arm and pulling her closer to him. "And you're going to give us answers."

She reflexively struggled against his grip, but that just seemed to make him angry.

"So it's going to be the hard way," Chloe heard the man say before she felt something heavy collide with her skull. Her eyes closed at that, and everything went dark.


	17. Chapter 17

_**Author's Note:**_ _Thank you to everyone who has followed, favorited, and reviewed this story—your feedback means the world to me!_

 _Hopefully, this chapter will help to answer a few outstanding questions. If not, always feel free to ask, and I will answer what I can._

 _Now, as always, thank you for reading!_

* * *

Bruce was charming—Claire couldn't deny it. Her mother and her grandfather seemed to think so too, based on the way the three of them were making conversation at dinner. Bruce was winning them over. He was Bruce Wayne, owner of a billion-dollar corporation, but he wasn't the flippant rich boy that he pretended to be in front of the press. He was earnest when he spoke, and Claire couldn't help but think how it was nice to see this side of him.

He wasn't impressing everyone at the table, though. Jonathan Kent had just learned of Bruce's contribution to his campaign during the course of the evening, but that hadn't stopped him from being critical toward the billionaire. Claire knew that her father wasn't the biggest fan of the rich and famous. His experiences with the Luthors in the past had caused him to be distrustful when dealing with people that possessed that level of wealth, but Claire thought that there might be more to his current attitude.

Her father knew that she was the Blur, and he had to suspect that she might have had some involvement in the recent incidents in Gotham. Helping people was something that she did everyday, and the people of Gotham had needed help over the last few weeks. Jonathan hadn't asked Claire about that, though, or whether she was working with the Batman, but Claire knew that her father wasn't oblivious.

It wouldn't be hard for him to recognize that a man from Gotham who was trying to associate with the Blur's family might be the Batman—especially if that man seemed to know Claire and possessed the wealth and resources of Bruce Wayne. Jonathan at least had to know it was a possibility, and he made his suspicions about Bruce clear after their main course was winding down.

"So Mr. Wayne," her father began, before taking a drink from his glass of whiskey, "what are your thoughts on this vigilante movement that Gotham and Metropolis seem to be facing?"

No matter what her father might be thinking, Claire was still surprised by the question, and so was her mother. Usually no one in their family brought up the subject of vigilantes.

"Now Jonathan," her mother interjected. "Let's not put a damper on the evening by starting on that topic."

"It's quite all right, Mrs. Kent," Bruce replied. "I don't mind offering my opinions on the lunatics out there that think they can take the law into their own hands."

"Well, they'd have to be lunatics to wear the costumes they run around in," Claire added, unable to resist making the observation. "I mean…a cape? Who wears something as crazy as that?"

Her eyes met Bruce's at that comment, and she watched a genuine smile appear on his face. She knew that he was taking the jab against his alter ego's apparel with the levity she had intended, but the others at the table might only think the billionaire found her statement amusing. She hoped that they didn't read anything further into the remark, but when Claire looked at her father, she knew that he was aware of something more.

Her mother cut the tension that Claire could suddenly feel rising, as she said, "Jonathan, why don't you and I try out the dance floor?"

"I think I'd rather not, Martha," her father replied.

"You really are a disappointment, Kent," her grandfather said, before standing up and offering a hand to Martha. "I might be old, but I would never pass up on the opportunity to dance with my daughter."

Her mother took her grandfather's hand and headed for the dance floor. With her grandfather out of earshot, Claire knew that she didn't have to hide her identity any longer—she was with two people who knew about her alter ego. She just didn't know what would happen next.

"All right," her father began sternly, "I want to know what's going on here."

"I don't know what you mean, Dad," Claire replied.

"Yes you do, Claire," her father said, agitation apparent in his voice. "I—"

"It's all right, Mr. Kent," Bruce interrupted, as if he knew what her father was asking. His tone was serious as he added, "Whatever questions you have, I'll answer."

"You are who I think you are," Jonathan said. These words were a statement—not a question, but Bruce still offered a single nod in reply.

Her father released a sigh at that, and Claire could see how the burden of her secrets was weighing him down. He never complained about it; he'd called her a gift that he and her mother were grateful to have. But Claire knew she'd been nothing but work for them both. They'd lied and sacrificed to keep her safe, and her father was still trying to protect her. He'd managed to accept that she was the Blur, but now she was wanting to work with someone else—and to let that someone else know their family's secrets.

It probably didn't help that Bruce Wayne was a billionaire—and in that regard, had to remind her father of Lex Luthor. On top of that, there was the Batman's reputation for being a vigilante thug. The media had often portrayed him as a brutal and aggressive menace, but Claire knew that there was more to him than that. She knew that Bruce wasn't like Lex, and she knew that the Batman was following a code to try to save his city. Now she just needed to make her father see that.

"I trust him," she said, before the questioning could begin. Her father and Bruce both looked at her as she continued, "Really that's what this all boils down to. We're on the same side. We have different methods and different views, but we have the same goal—and that's all that really matters in the end, right?"

"Claire, we've done everything we could for years to make sure that people don't find out about you," Jonathan said quietly.

"No one will ever find out about Claire from me," Bruce replied in an equally hushed tone. "If they did, you could tell the world that Bruce Wayne is the Batman—and then where would I be? Claire and I are allies in the same fight."

"And your contribution to my campaign—what was that exactly?" Jonathan asked. "Payment to make sure that Claire stays your ally?"

"It was a way to explain why Bruce Wayne and I would ever have a conversation," Claire replied. She understood Bruce's reasoning behind it now, and she wanted her father to know that Bruce didn't have any ulterior motives in making the contribution.

Suddenly Claire's phone began to vibrate. She considered ignoring it, but answering the call would give her a reprieve from her father's critical gaze. She saw on the screen that it was Jimmy Olsen calling.

"Hi Jimmy," she said after accepting the call.

" _Hey Claire,_ " he replied. " _I'm calling because I was wondering if you've seen Chloe this evening. She and I were supposed to have dinner, and she's a no-show._ "

"Have you tried calling her cell?" Claire asked, as she began to feel worried. Chloe rarely missed a date with Jimmy—and if she did, Claire usually knew why.

" _I tried that and her desk phone,_ " Jimmy answered. " _I'm starting to get nervous here._ "

"I bet it's nothing," Claire responded, trying to sound calm. "I'm sure she just got caught up with work. I'll track her down and call you back later." She ended the call and saw that both her father and Bruce were looking at her.

"What is it?" her father asked.

"Chloe," Claire replied. "She's nowhere to be found, and Jimmy can't reach her on her phone."

"Where was she last seen?" Bruce asked.

"I saw her at the Planet this afternoon," she answered, turning her attention to Bruce. "She was on her way to the docks for some interviews."

"The docks?" Bruce questioned, a concerned look appearing on his face.

"Yes," Claire said. "Why?"

"Because I recently found evidence suggesting that illegal weapons are being brought into Gotham after stopping at Metropolis' docks."

"And when were you going to tell me about this?" Claire asked, her eyes narrowing.

"You had plans this evening," Bruce replied.

Claire knew the bickering wasn't going to help with anything, so she turned her focus from Bruce back to her father.

"I need to go try to find Chloe," she said before looking at the dance floor. "Can you make up some excuse? Say that it was work or something?"

"I'll take care of it," her father replied. "Just be careful."

"I will," Claire said, as she moved to stand up.

"Wait," Bruce stated. "How do you plan to find her?"

"The old fashioned way—run around the docks until I come across some trace of her."

"I'll go with you," Bruce said. "I think I may have a faster way."

Claire considered the offer, and finally consented. "Fine," she said. "I'll go first, then you follow afterward. When you go out the main entrance, head left and then turn into the first alleyway you come to. I'll meet you there."

Bruce nodded, and Claire stood to leave. She went and kissed her father on the cheek before heading toward the exit. She knew that her father probably still wasn't pleased that she was working with the Batman, but right now, Bruce might be able to help her find Chloe.

And that was what mattered.

* * *

Jonathan Kent watched his daughter walk out of the doors to the restaurant.

He wasn't happy with the way things had gone tonight. He'd known it was going to be a rough evening, having to spend time with his father-in-law, but he hadn't imagined the downward spiral the dinner would take.

He'd had the Batman sitting at his table, and apparently his daughter was working with the man. The latter was something that Jonathan had suspected, but he hadn't wanted it confirmed.

But that was just the way things were going for him tonight.

Not long after Claire had left the table, Bruce buttoned his jacket, preparing to go and follow her.

"Hold up, Wayne," Jonathan said. Their conversation this evening hadn't gone as he'd intended. Jonathan had wanted Bruce to know that he wouldn't allow the billionaire or the Batman to harm his daughter. He knew that ensuring Chloe's safety was a priority, but he still wanted to make sure that Bruce was aware of his main concerns.

"Listen," Jonathan began, in a quiet yet threatening voice, "I don't care who you are or what you can do—if you hurt my daughter, I'll hunt you down and make you pay for it."

"I don't doubt that, Mr. Kent," Bruce replied as he stood. "But know that I have no intention of hurting Claire." His tone became darker as he added, "And if anyone ever does try to hurt her, I can assure you that I will make them regret it."

Jonathan could tell that Bruce was serious. From what reports had said about the Batman, Jonathan knew that the man in front of him was violent and dangerous—but Claire had vouched for him. She trusted Bruce, and Jonathan knew that his daughter's trust wasn't easily earned.

He was torn. He didn't like the Batman's methods, nor did he care for Bruce Wayne's reckless lifestyle, but now knowing that this man was more than what the media made him appear to be, Jonathan questioned his initial opinions. Perhaps his daughter saw more to Bruce than what he could see at first glance, and perhaps that was why Claire was willing to fight alongside him.

In the end, Jonathan realized that he had to trust his daughter's judgment. He stood and offered his hand to Bruce to shake, saying, "I'm going to hold you to that, Wayne."

"I won't let you down, sir," Bruce replied, before shaking his hand.

Jonathan noticed Bruce's firm grip and rough skin—signs of a workingman's hand. Jonathan could tell that this man wasn't like the other billionaire in the Kents' lives who'd caused nothing but trouble for their family. Bruce was different, and right now, he was following Claire to try to help her.

Jonathan watched Bruce leave and hoped that his daughter's trust wasn't misplaced.

* * *

Claire found Bruce in the alleyway, right where she'd told him to meet her.

Since leaving the table, Claire had run back to her apartment. There was no sign of Chloe there, so Claire knew the docks were the best place to start looking. She'd changed into her Blur outfit, put her mask in her back pocket, and returned to the hotel. She wanted to know what information Bruce had—especially if it could help with locating her friend.

Claire stopped right in front of Bruce. He was standing in a darkened doorway, out of sight of anyone walking along the main street.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

"Whenever you are," he replied, moving closer to her.

Claire placed one hand on his waist and the other on his neck. It was the safest way to grip someone standing upright before travelling with them at super-speed. She'd held Bruce like this before, but this time she noticed his pulse quicken at the touch. She also noticed that he took it a step further this time, putting his hands on her hips to steady himself. It made her all too aware of their close proximity, but she did what she could to ignore it. She had to focus on finding Chloe.

"Penthouse at the Plaza, right?" she asked.

Bruce nodded, and Claire sped them to the balcony of Bruce's suite, before backing away from him. Prior to entering, Claire scanned the rooms to confirm that only Alfred was there. The butler was on his own, so they made their way into the main living room. Bruce went toward a laptop set up on a nearby table, and Claire went toward Alfred.

"Hi Al," Claire said.

"Miss Kent!" Alfred replied. "How delightful to see you—unexpected, but delightful. I was under the impression that you had other plans for the evening."

"My plans keep changing tonight," she said.

"Does Chloe have one of the phones that I gave to you?" Bruce asked from across the room.

"Yes," Claire replied, turning toward Bruce. She'd given one of the phones to Chloe and explained to her friend that it was a gift from the Batman.

"I'm guessing it was the phone whose number ends with zero-three," Bruce said.

"Yes, that's it," Claire answered. "Were you able to locate it?"

"No," he replied. "That phone is the only one of them that I can't locate."

"What does that mean?" Claire asked.

"Most likely that the phone was destroyed."

Claire was worried and frustrated. She felt that she should've gone with Chloe to look into the thefts at the docks, rather than go to the airport with Cat. She knew she had to listen to her boss' orders, but that didn't mean she always had to follow them.

She balled her hands into tight fists at her sides and tried to ignore the guilt building up inside of her. She needed to act, not wallow.

"All right," she said. "I'm heading down there. I'm going to sweep the area and see what I can find."

" _We're_ heading down there," Bruce replied, as he removed his jacket and walked into an adjacent bedroom.

"You can't keep up," Claire yelled at him through the wall. "And we already talked about the fact that the Batman shouldn't be making an appearance in Metropolis."

"But I know more about this situation than you do," Bruce replied, as Claire could hear him moving in the other room, changing into his batsuit. "I've been monitoring this case. I know about the criminals behind it—what tactics they'll use, what kind of arsenal they have. You need backup."

He returned to the living room with his cowl in his hand. "I can keep to the shadows," Bruce said. "No one will know that the Batman was there just like no one knew that the Blur was in Gotham, and I can help make sure you get your friend back."

"She's the priority," Claire said, as she finally accepted Bruce's decision. "If you have an opportunity to get her out of there, you take it. I can deal with the bad guys."

"These men have brought trouble to my town too," Bruce responded. "I need to ensure that they're properly dealt with."

"My city, my rules," Claire said, repeating what Bruce had once said to her before putting on her mask.

"Fine—your city, your rules," he said, as he put on his cowl.

"You have an idea of where we should start?" Claire asked, moving closer to him so she could speed them both to the docks.

"Somewhere between Piers 55 and 60," he answered. "That's the most likely area where we'll find this weapons smuggling operation."

"All right," Claire said, as she once again put her hands on him. "Hold on," she added.

"Will do," Bruce said, gripping her waist.

Claire tried to push the inconvenient thoughts out of her mind that arose at his touch. She needed to bring them to the docks and find Chloe—and she needed to ignore any possible distractions.

* * *

When they stopped at Pier 57, Bruce knew that they had found the place. They'd arrived in a dark alleyway, but even from here, Bruce could see two lookouts on the roof carrying assault rifles.

"They're here," Claire confirmed, sounding anxious. "I can hear them in that warehouse. Chloe's in there—I can see her. She's tied to a chair, and I think she's unconscious. They're saying something about questioning her once she's awake."

"We'll get her out of there," Bruce assured. "How many men are inside?"

"I count eight inside, two more on the roof, and another three walking around on the far side of the building," she replied. "They're all heavily armed, and there are more guns in the crates inside. And something else."

"Explosives?" Bruce questioned.

"Yes," Claire said. "How did you—never mind. Of course you knew. Anyway, I can see chemicals, wires, something that could be a detonator. It's all packaged up, but…"

"But even packaged up, they could cause serious damage if ignited?" Bruce asked, and Claire nodded in reply. "We'll be careful then," he said.

"We need a plan," she said, but Bruce had already started to form one.

"We need to deal with the outliers first," he began. "That'll help prevent surprises later. Go handle the three on the far side. I'll take care of the two on the roof."

"And then we meet inside?"

"You'll deal with the bad guys in there, and I'll make sure your friend gets out," Bruce answered, agreeing to her earlier request.

"I'll see you in a bit," Claire said, before speeding off to the other side of the warehouse.

Bruce then launched his grappling hook at the building and was lifted toward the roof. He landed silently and went up behind the men keeping watch. He knocked each of them out swiftly before securing their wrists with zip ties.

There was a large skylight on the roof, and Bruce made his way toward it. Inside, he could see Chloe tied up, just as Claire had described. A few men were near her—trying to wake her up or standing guard, and the others moved around the warehouse, loading weapons into crates.

Suddenly, the men started dropping to the floor, and Bruce knew that Claire was taking them down. She was also drawing the remaining men's attention, so Bruce took the opportunity to jump through the skylight. His cape lessened the impact, meaning that he didn't need time to recover. He went straight to Chloe and cut her bonds.

She was still unconscious, so Bruce lifted her carefully and then fired his grappling hook back at the skylight. Once he'd made sure that Chloe was safe on the roof, Bruce returned the way he'd come, intent on helping Claire.

He could see through the skylight that she'd taken down most of the thugs. Claire then paused and appeared to be scanning the room—Bruce assumed that she was checking to make sure the place was secure.

Bruce suddenly saw movement from across the room before hearing someone yell, "If I'm going down, I'm taking this place with me!"

The man had a gun raised and was pointing it at some of the crates. Bruce pulled out a batarang, but the angle wasn't right. He'd never be able to hit the man from here.

The gun started firing, and it was as if time stopped. Claire was closer to the crates than the gunman, so she moved into the line of fire.

"No!" Bruce bellowed. He knew Claire was strong, but it was a rapid-fire weapon sending bullets at her right now. He feared that she wouldn't be able to survive that kind of attack. He leapt through the opening and threw the batarang in midair. It hit its mark, knocking the gun from the man's hands, and now Bruce just had to deal with the fall. Opening his cape this close to the ground would mean a painful landing, but he didn't care at that point.

"What is it with you and freefalling?" he heard Claire ask, as she deposited him on the ground unharmed. "Hold on, don't answer that just yet," she added, before speeding across the room and knocking out the last man.

Claire returned to Bruce after that with the batarang in hand. "You don't want to leave any trace of the Batman here, do you?" she asked, offering him the sharpened piece of metal.

"You weren't running," Bruce said, not fully understanding what had happened.

"What do you mean?"

"That man started shooting, and you didn't run," Bruce said, agitation becoming apparent his voice. "You moved in front of the gun like you didn't care, but aren't you supposed to dodge bullets?"

Bruce knew Claire had super-speed, and he'd assumed that was what helped her to face most dangerous situations. He knew she was strong as well—but strong enough to withstand that onslaught of bullets? Bruce didn't think that would be possible. Her speed might also mean faster healing, but still that didn't explain how she could be standing right now after that attack.

"Oh," Claire said, as if she were trying to understand Bruce's concern. "He was aiming for the crates full of explosives. If any of the bullets had hit them, I was worried that this whole warehouse might go up in flames. I figured it was better if the bullets just bounced off me rather than hit those crates."

"Bullets just bounce off you?" Bruce questioned, realizing that he'd had no idea how strong Claire actually was until that moment.

"Yes," Claire answered, before looking down at her shirt, which contained new holes and tears but no sign of blood. "Me—the bullets bounce off of; the outfit—not so much."

After a moment, Claire continued, "I guess we should get out of here now. Chloe's… Chloe's awake."

Suddenly, Claire's eyes turned upward, and Bruce's gaze followed hers. Looking down at them through the skylight was Claire's friend.

"So much for no one knowing that the Batman was here," Bruce said.

"She won't tell anyone," Claire said, trying to assure him. "Your secret's safe with her."

Bruce believed her. Chloe Sullivan had managed to keep the Blur's identity concealed for years; he doubted that she would find it difficult to keep quiet about the Batman's appearance in Metropolis tonight.

"I trust her," Bruce replied.

"Do you want me to take you back to your hotel?"

"I'll manage," Bruce answered. "Go and see to your friend."

"Right. She and I will take care of informing the cops about this place," Claire said, as she began to move away from him. She paused, though, to turn back toward him and add, "I know we don't say it, but these circumstances are different. Thank you for your help tonight."

"Anytime," Bruce replied, as he watched her speed away.

Bruce was glad to be on his own for the moment. He needed to process what he'd just learned about Claire.

* * *

"So, is it a vengeance thing?" Chloe asked her in a hushed tone from across their desks.

Claire's entire morning had consisted of questions from her friend about the Batman and his alter ego. The previous night, Claire had brought Chloe to a hospital to have her injuries examined, and they'd called the police to let them know about the warehouse. As soon as Claire had given Chloe her laptop, she'd quickly typed up an article describing what had happened at the docks, and Claire made sure that she'd omitted any mention of the Batman's presence there. After things had calmed down, it hadn't taken Chloe long to figure out that Bruce Wayne was the man behind the mask—given that the billionaire and the Batman were both Gotham residents who happened to be in Metropolis last night. And once Chloe had the Batman's identity figured out, she wanted to know more.

"I mean," Chloe continued. "His parents were killed in a horrible crime—he has to want vengeance for that."

"It's not about vengeance for him," Claire replied. "It's about justice."

Both of them quit speaking for a moment, because they could see Cat Grant approaching.

Cat had a sour look on her face, as she said, "Sullivan, I would congratulate you on today's article if you hadn't turned it into pro-vigilante propaganda. We don't need those masked freaks, but writing something like this—where the Blur seems like a hero—that's just going to encourage them."

"Well," Chloe began, "the next time the Blur saves my life, I'll be sure to tell him I don't need him."

Cat didn't seem happy with Chloe's response and was about to walk away when Chloe asked, "So how was your date with Bruce Wayne last night?"

Now that Chloe knew Bruce Wayne's alternate identity, Claire had shared a number of stories about him with her friend—including his interaction with Cat yesterday. She regretted that decision as soon as Chloe had asked that question of Cat. Claire didn't want Chloe using the information on Bruce to cause trouble.

Cat spun on her stiletto heels to directly face Chloe. "Bruce Wayne is so yesterday's news," she said. "There's a new back-from-the-dead billionaire making headlines, and he is so much hotter than Bruce Wayne."

"What are you talking about?" Chloe asked.

"The latest from Starling City," Cat answered. "Oliver Queen's been found alive. Apparently, he was shipwrecked on an island in the middle of nowhere for five years, but now he's back home, and I'm going to ask Perry if I can leave town to try to get an exclusive with him."

"Good luck with that," Chloe replied dismissively, and Cat stormed away from them, clearly disappointed that her latest grand plan hadn't earned more of their attention.

Chloe then started typing on her keyboard and said, "I guess Cat wasn't completely wrong." Chloe turned her monitor, so Claire could see what was on the screen. It was an article just published this morning about the return of Oliver Queen to Starling City, and a picture of the young man was posted alongside the text.

"I still think your billionaire is hotter, though," Chloe added.

Claire didn't like that phrasing—Bruce wasn't _her_ billionaire—and she decided to make that clear to Chloe.

"He's not my—" Claire began before she was interrupted by her cellphone vibrating. The letter 'B' was prominent on the screen.

"You were saying?" Chloe said smugly.

Claire ignored Chloe and answered the call.

"Hi," she said.

" _Hello Claire,_ " Bruce replied. " _Are you all right this morning?_ "

Claire didn't know if there was more to his question, or if he was just making conversation. He was concerned last night when the bullets were fired directly at her, but that just made Claire realize that she'd never told him about her invulnerability to most weapons. He'd seen her strength and speed, and most people who knew about those abilities knew that bullets couldn't harm her. She hadn't thought to tell him about her near invincibility.

He knew now, though, so Claire decided to not rehash the subject.

"I'm fine," she answered. "Those weapons smugglers are behind bars, and their guns aren't on the streets, so all-in-all, it seems like a good day."

" _I'm glad to hear it,_ " Bruce replied. " _I was wondering if you have time to stop by Gotham on Saturday to talk business. After how poorly received my surprise arrival in Metropolis was, I thought that I should give you plenty of forewarning this time._ "

"Considerate," Claire said. "What time on Saturday?"

" _Would 10 a.m. at the penthouse work?_ " he asked.

"That should be fine," she answered, when she suddenly realized that she didn't know if he wanted Claire Kent to be there or the Blur. "Do you need to see me or do you need…?" she asked, but she didn't feel comfortable completing the question in public. She figured Bruce would probably know what she meant.

" _Just you,_ " Bruce replied. " _There won't be a crowd, so there's no need for masks._ "

"Okay," Claire said. "I guess I'll see you then."

" _I'm looking forward to it,_ " Bruce said, before ending the call.

Claire found Bruce difficult to read at times. She could pick up on signs—the change in his pulse when he touched her, the concern in his voice when he thought she might be hurt. But those sorts of reactions weren't guarantees of anything. She'd noticed them in others throughout her life without there being any deeper significance to them, and that meant she couldn't predict what Bruce was currently thinking.

As for this Saturday, Claire didn't know what Bruce was planning. She would just have to spend the next few days waiting in suspense.

* * *

The inmate stared at the picture above the newspaper article.

He never read the paper—technically he wasn't allowed to, but this newspaper had been discarded. He'd found it in a bin of clothing that he was assigned to wash, and he'd kept it hidden so the guards wouldn't take it away from him.

The picture was motivation for him. It reminded him why he couldn't stay trapped in this hellhole.

He had unfinished business he needed to take care of.

The picture was of a man and two women, and the caption underneath read, " _Congressional candidate Jonathan Kent along with his wife Martha and his daughter Claire._ "

Claire.

She was the freak that had ruined his life. He wouldn't be in this cell if she hadn't stopped him from completing his mission to rid the world of people like her—rejects with strange abilities who didn't deserve to live among normal people.

But he wouldn't be in this cell much longer. He and two other inmates had a plan to escape, and it was only a matter of time before they could put that plan into action.

And then he was going to kill that freak Claire. Slowly.


	18. Chapter 18

_**Author's Note:**_ _I want to once again thank everyone who has reviewed, followed, or favorited this story. I truly appreciate your support._

 _To answer one question from the reviews, the Oliver Queen in this story will be from the Arrow-verse. Another question posed in the reviews will be answered in this chapter. Please feel free to let me know if you have other questions._

 _And now, thank you for reading, and Happy New Year!_

* * *

The woman was infuriating. She had super-speed, but somehow she was still ten minutes late to their planned meeting.

Since his return from Metropolis, Bruce had dealt with several of Gotham's criminals, but he repeatedly found his thoughts drifting to Claire. He'd learned more about her during his trip to her city—more than he'd expected to.

He'd known fear his entire life—fear of how easily he could lose the people closest to him through the actions of one pathetic man with a gun. He'd done what he could to suppress that fear, to make himself ready and equipped to face it head on. If anyone approached him with any sort of weapon now, Bruce wouldn't hesitate. He would take down that person and disarm them, ensuring that they couldn't cause any harm.

But even so, there was no guarantee that he would be fast enough or strong enough to handle every opponent he might face. There was always a risk that someone might slip by him, and that something might happen to the people he cared about.

And then there was Claire. He'd already known she was fast and strong, but he'd only just found out this week that she was indestructible. He'd seen her survive the explosion on that oil rig, but he'd thought that the concussive force of the blast had perhaps pushed her clear of the worst of the flames. He'd also theorized that her increased speed might mean rapid healing; it seemed like the only way her body could withstand traveling at such high speeds.

But in fact, he'd had no idea about the true extent of her abilities.

Bullets bounced off of her—it was still difficult to wrap his head around that thought. His worst fear didn't apply to her. He would never lose her to some madman with a gun.

Claire had vulnerabilities—her family and friends, and the possibility of being unmasked to the world, but he could help her with those. He could help her with a number of things, and that was why he wanted her to come to Gotham today. He wanted to make sure she was better prepared for her life as a vigilante.

Bruce was still cautious. He knew how powerful Claire was, and if she ever went out of control, he knew he might have to be the one to try to stop her. But now he couldn't ignore other thoughts he was having about her. She was warm and kind and…haunting him.

She accepted him, when most people no doubt thought that he belonged in a nuthouse. She saw the harsh, violent parts of the world, but still she would smile at him like she could only see the good in people. It seemed annoyingly naïve, but Bruce knew that Claire was anything but naïve. She could see and hear practically anything, but that hadn't turned her into a bitter shell of a person who had no hope for humanity. Instead, she seemed determined to save humanity, and Bruce along with it.

He knew he was arrogant and demanding, and he probably let that side of himself show too much around Claire. But she didn't put up with his attitude; she called him on it and challenged his views, and God help him, she was making him hopeful about life.

And to make matters worse, she had won over his butler. Bruce could hear it in his older friend's voice each time Alfred spoke about Claire, just as he was doing so right now.

"Miss Kent is on her way up, sir," Alfred called from the other side of the penthouse.

"On my way," Bruce replied, leaving his computer and closing up the hidden chamber adjacent to his room. He grabbed a black, collarless leather jacket to wear over his gray t-shirt and headed to the entrance of the penthouse.

Bruce could hear the elevator pinging as it approached his floor. Alfred was standing right next to the doors, waiting for them to open so that he could welcome their guest. Soon enough, the doors slid apart to reveal Claire, leaning against the back handrail in dark, skinny jeans, a sky blue tank top underneath a long-sleeve navy jacket, and flat, knee-high boots. Her glasses were on and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail—features Bruce had come to associate with the Claire Kent side of her personality.

"I guess I should have just run up the side of the building," Claire said, pushing away from the rail and walking into the main room. "The elevator was slower than I thought it would be."

"That still doesn't explain why you're so late," Bruce replied. She never gave him any slack, so he wasn't going to neglect to return the favor.

"I ran into some car trouble," she said.

"You drove?" Bruce questioned. He didn't think she owned a car, nor did he think she needed one with the speeds at which she could travel.

"No," Claire answered. "I just ran into some car trouble."

"You mean on Highway 85?" Alfred asked. "That accident that so many cars were involved in?"

"Yes," Claire replied. "That was it. I just got the cars out of the pileup and made it easier for EMTs to reach everybody."

"Oh? _Just_ that?" Alfred commented teasingly in response to her humble answer.

"Right, well, I'm here now," Claire said with a smile. "So what is it you need my help with?"

"You think I called you here to ask for your help with something?" Bruce asked, heading for a cabinet that contained the keys to most of his cars.

"That is usually why we contact each other," she replied, as Bruce grabbed the key that he was looking for. "Or to give each other a heads up about something."

"Well, I guess today it's something different," Bruce said. "But we're going to need to take a trip to Wayne Tower for it," he added, lifting up the keychain to show her.

"Okay," Claire agreed. "What's at Wayne Tower?"

"It's a surprise," Bruce said, leading Claire back into the elevator before saying to Alfred, "I'll be back later."

"See you around, Al," Claire said, as the doors closed. When they were alone, she asked, "So what's the surprise?"

"Answering that would defeat the purpose of it being a surprise, don't you think?" Bruce replied. "There is one thing I need to know before you can see the surprise, though."

"What's that?"

"Do you have any problem with Lucius Fox knowing your true identity?" Bruce asked.

"I'm surprised you're asking," Claire responded. "My parents and best friend know about your alter ego without getting any permission. And in that way, I guess it's only fair that someone else in your acquaintance knows about my identity. I mean, I don't want to outnumber you by too many."

"This isn't a competition," Bruce stated. "And I'm fine with your parents and Miss Sullivan knowing about me. I trust them to not use that information for any ill purpose. I just think that going forward, we should have a rule in place where we check with each other first before revealing the other's identity to anyone."

"Fair enough," Claire answered. "And I'm fine with Lucius knowing who I am. He's a good man as far as I can tell, and you seem to believe that too."

"I do," Bruce said, as the elevator doors opened to an underground garage containing two rows of fancy cars and motorcycles.

"So which one's yours?" Claire asked.

"All of them," Bruce replied. "I own this whole level of the garage, but we're taking this one," he added, pressing a button on his key fob so that the doors unlocked and the lights flashed.

"You know I can get us there faster than this car can, right?"

"This is a Bugatti Veyron," Bruce replied, approaching the passenger side of the black and silver vehicle. "It's one of the fastest cars in the world, and only fifty of them were made this year. You might be able to get us there faster, but I think this way has more style."

He opened the door for her, wondering if she would offer further argument, but she didn't. Instead, she just entered the car with two words, "We'll see."

Bruce couldn't hold back his smile, as he made his way around to the driver's seat and started up the car.

* * *

Claire had been to Wayne Tower a few times now, but the last time, she'd sped in and out of the building trying to save the people of Gotham. It hadn't left her much time to appreciate the scenery.

The building was massive, and its architecture was modern. And apparently, Bruce had complete run over the place. The guard at the entryway to the parking garage waved their car through without bothering to ask what brought Bruce to the office on a Saturday. Claire was fine with that, though. She didn't want to draw any more attention to them than was necessary.

Once they were out of the car, Bruce led them inside yet another elevator. He entered a particular sequence of digits on a keypad and then hit an unmarked button. The button lit up, and the elevator began to descend.

"So are you going to give me a hint?" Claire asked, wondering what Bruce was leading her to.

"You'll know soon enough," Bruce replied.

Claire realized in that moment how much she trusted Bruce. She wouldn't follow just anyone blindly into some underground lair. She knew that she could escape most traps—she had the strength and power to do so, but she did have weaknesses that someone could exploit. Claire just didn't feel like she had to worry about that with Bruce. Maybe she was being foolish. Bruce didn't know all of her secrets, and if he did, perhaps he would try to control her, but right now, it just seemed like she'd found a kindred spirit in Bruce.

"We're here," he said, as the elevator stopped and the doors opened. Lucius wasn't far. They approached him, and Bruce began the introductions, "Lucius Fox, this is Claire Kent."

"Miss Kent," Lucius began, "it's a pleasure to finally meet you when the city's not in the middle of a crisis."

"Mr. Fox," Claire replied with a smile, as the two of them shook hands.

"Are you excited to see what we've cooked up for you?" Lucius asked.

"I'd say curious, seeing as how I have no idea what Bruce brought me here for," Claire answered.

"You didn't tell her?" Lucius asked Bruce.

"I figured you should handle that," Bruce replied. "You were the mastermind behind the project."

"What project?" Claire asked.

"A new suit for the Blur," Lucius answered, going behind a tall row of cabinets.

Claire restrained herself from looking through the metal to see what Lucius was retrieving.

"Just tell me there's not a cape," Claire said to Bruce quietly.

"What do you have against the cape?" Bruce asked.

"They're not for everyone," Claire answered.

"They're aerodynamic and helpful for maintaining balance when you're dealing with serious heights," Bruce argued. "And I'm willing to bet one day you'll wear one too."

"Not today," Claire replied playfully as Lucius wheeled out something that looked like a large, metal clothing rack. Three outfits were hanging from it, and much to Claire's delight, there wasn't a cape to be seen.

Each suit was black and appeared to be made out of a leather-like fabric. Claire went up to one of them and felt the material. It was smooth to the touch but seemed sturdy.

"It's a frictionless fabric," Lucius explained. "It's designed to help you achieve faster speeds, but it's also durable—fireproof, tear-resistant."

Claire could see that each outfit had two main pieces—a jacket and pants, and also included a detachable mask and boots.

"I structured them similar to your previous suit, which seemed to hide your form," Lucius said. "There's a side room across the way if you'd like some privacy to try one of them on."

"I'm fast enough," Claire said simply, and she noticed Lucius' brow furrow in confusion at that. Before he could blink, though, Claire had changed into one of the suits, and it appeared that Lucius understood her meaning.

"That is truly remarkable," Lucius commented.

"So is this suit," Claire replied. She could feel the difference between it and other materials that she'd worn. There was so little resistance that she wondered what kind of speeds she could reach in it, and it fit like a glove. "I'm amazed you got the size right on the first try," she said.

"Well, Mr. Wayne gave me your dimensions, which helped me to develop the frame for the suit," Lucius said. "And the rest fell together from there."

"Wait—how did you have my dimensions?" Claire asked Bruce.

"That's not important," Bruce answered with reluctance.

"But you did have them, and you gave them to Lucius. So he already knew who I was before we got here," Claire said. "Why did you go through that whole act of asking for my permission to reveal my identity?"

"It wasn't an act," Bruce stated firmly. "And I gave him your measurements, not your name."

"I can assure you that I only knew that you were a woman," Lucius affirmed. "I didn't know you were Claire Kent until you walked out of that elevator."

Lucius' words calmed her, and Claire knew that she had to try to keep her temper in check when she was around Bruce. For all she trusted him, he had a way of riling her.

"Do you at least like the suit?" Bruce asked—again with some hesitance to his voice that seemed unlike him.

"Yes, I like the suit," Claire replied with a sigh. "But you didn't have to do this. My old outfit worked just fine."

"And how many of those old outfits have gotten destroyed while you've put out fires or broken up gunfights?" Bruce questioned. "Or were worn apart by your super-speed?"

"I think what Mr. Wayne is trying to say is that you're doing an important job out there," Lucius began. "And Wayne Enterprises has the means to provide you with better tools to do that job."

Lucius headed over to an electrical panel before continuing, "Now, would you like to take the suit for a spin?" He flipped a switch on the panel, lighting up a large room that looked like it could be used to test drive vehicles. "The space is limited, but it should give us an idea of whether the suit meets your needs."

"Yeah," Claire began, "I get the feeling that I shouldn't try to break the sound barrier in here."

"Can you?" Lucius asked, sounding astonished.

Claire just smiled back at him before speeding by him into the room. She did a dozen laps and was back at Lucius' side in a second.

"Not bad," Claire commented, as she looked over the suit. Bruce and Lucius were right—the suit didn't show any signs of wear or strain from traveling as fast as she dared to indoors. She now wondered how it would hold up in a cross-country trip.

"All of the suits are yours," Lucius said. "And if there's anything else you need, all you have to do is ask. I can make nearly anything down here."

"When you're not busy being the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, you mean?" Claire responded.

"Even CEOs have spare time," Lucius said with a smile. "And I find helping vigilantes to be a very satisfying hobby."

"Well, there's nothing I can think of that I need," Claire said. "But I'll let you know if I come up with anything."

"Actually, Lucius," Bruce began, "do you have a bag Claire could use to store these suits? We have another stop to make this morning."

"We do?" Claire questioned.

"Yes, we do," Bruce answered.

"Well, Mr. Wayne," Lucius said, "I think that may be the easiest request you've ever made. I have something right here."

Lucius retrieved a large duffel bag from a nearby cabinet and began pulling the two hanging suits off the rack and storing them in the bag. Claire quickly changed back into her regular clothing, so that the third suit could be packed away as well.

"So where are we going now?" Claire asked, as she lifted the bag.

"You'll see," Bruce said, moving toward the exit. "Thank you for your help, Lucius," he added.

"My pleasure, Mr. Wayne," Lucius replied.

Claire approached Lucius at that. "It was nice meeting you face-to-face," she said, offering her hand for him to shake.

"Likewise, Miss Kent," Lucius replied, smiling while shaking her hand. Bruce was all the way to the elevator, when Lucius added quietly, "You know it was all his idea—the suit, I mean. I think he worries about you."

"Thank you for that," Claire said. "And for the suits. They're amazing."

"You'll have to let me know how they work in the field."

"I will," Claire replied, as the elevator doors opened. She sped to catch up to Bruce, and soon they were back on their way to the parking garage.

* * *

Bruce had one more stop for them—one that he hadn't planned to make, but he suddenly found himself wanting to keep Claire in his company for as long as possible.

"So, you're taking me to see your collection of shipping crates?" Claire asked, as they approached an open area next to the river. The place was surrounded by a chain-linked fence, and inside were metal crates of various sizes—all marked with the Wayne Enterprises' logo.

"Something like that," Bruce replied, as he drove them inside. He pulled the car into a concealed parking spot, so it wouldn't be noticed, and then he went to close up the fence.

"Over here," he said, leading Claire into one of the taller crates. The interior was dark, and it became even darker when he closed the door behind them. Bruce then walked to the far side of the space, reached toward the floor, and pulled on the handle he found there.

An opening was revealed, and through it poured light from a room that was beneath them. There was a ladder leading downward, and Bruce stepped onto one of the rungs.

"This way," he indicated, as he descended.

Bruce made it all the way down, and Claire suddenly appeared beside him.

"Okay, now you have me curious," she said. "What is this place?"

"This is going to be my new base of operations until the manor is completed—which is apparently going to take a significant amount of time," Bruce replied. "I wanted you to know where to go in the city in case you ever needed to find me."

"No bats in here to keep you company?" she asked teasingly.

"I figured it would be best to not bring them into the city," he answered. "If anyone noticed an increase in the bat population in a certain area of Gotham…"

"Then it might lead someone right here, where they would stumble upon the location of the Batman's secret lair. That makes sense," Claire replied. She then walked around the room, before asking, "What are all of these markings?"

There were markings on the floor, ceiling, and walls. Bruce hadn't had a chance to finish the place yet, and the markings showed projects he still needed to complete.

"I'm having to be careful with the construction of this place," Bruce answered. "I still need to work on the places that are marked, but I need to wait for the right moment. They have a construction site a few blocks away from here. Next week, they'll be doing work there, and the noise that they'll make will help to cover anything that I do here."

"So you're going to cut and re-configure the slabs that you have marked?" Claire asked. "And the slabs from the ceiling, for instance, those are going to make a good bit of noise when they fall—so that's what you're worried about?"

"Basically," Bruce said

"The lines you've drawn are accurate, right?"

"Yes," Bruce answered, wondering what Claire was trying to say. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I don't think we have to wait," Claire said, removing her jacket.

"What do you mean?" Bruce asked, watching her move underneath a large rectangle drawn on the ceiling.

"Do you want this one cut all the way through to the ground above us?"

"I didn't bring you here to have you work on the place," Bruce said.

"No, you had me come to your city to give me fancy new suits that I didn't ask for," Claire replied. "I owe you for that."

"No, you don't."

"Are you really going to stand there and argue with me, or do you want me to go ahead and take care of this?" Claire asked.

Bruce knew he wasn't going to win this fight, and part of him didn't want to. In truth, her suggestion gave Bruce something he wanted—more time with Claire. He hadn't wanted to make her work while she was here, but she did seem willing, and he wasn't going to refuse her.

"This slab needs to remain intact," Bruce explained, referring to the area above them. "Eventually, I'm going to set up a lift mechanism that will raise and lower the slab to allow authorized people to access this room."

"You already have the lift mechanism?"

"It's in one of the crates above us," Bruce answered.

"All right then," Claire said. "It sounds like we can take care of some of this today." She stepped directly beneath one of the lines and added, "You may want to step back while I do this."

Bruce took a few steps backward and stared at Claire, amazed, as she looked up and shot lasers from her eyes at the ceiling above. She made her way around the entire slab, and as she cut through the last of it, her arms went up to catch the concrete and metal before it hit the floor. Carefully, she lowered it to the ground—hardly making a sound in the process.

They continued until the early afternoon. Claire would handle the cutting and heavy lifting, including moving some of the machinery out of the crates above into the room, while Bruce worked on installing the machinery. After only a few hours, the main platform would already rise and fall, and a number of the other moveable compartments were fully operational.

Bruce believed that he could go ahead and begin using the space, when only yesterday, he'd thought it would be weeks before the room would be functional. He hadn't wanted it originally, but now he was grateful to have had Claire's help.

"Not bad," Bruce said in response to her work.

"Well, I did grow up having to figure out how to adjust to superpowers," Claire replied. "You should've seen how many times I destroyed—and then had to rebuild—part of our house or barn. Construction is kind of second nature to me now."

Claire then looked around the room, before asking, "So what's next?"

"I think that covers everything I might need help with in here," Bruce answered, but then he realized that Claire might leave if there was nothing further to keep her here. And Bruce knew he didn't want that. "Do you want to join Alfred and I for a late lunch?" he asked quickly. "Alfred always prefers to cook for more than just the two of us."

"I appreciate the offer," Claire said, and Bruce noticed reluctance in her voice. "But I think I should be getting back to Metropolis. I don't want people thinking that the Blur has abandoned them."

"Of course," Bruce replied, not wanting to push her. "I appreciate your help today," he added, offering her his hand.

"That's what I'm here for," Claire replied, placing her hand in his.

He shook her hand, but he also held it more firmly than he normally would, and his thumb rubbed back and forth across her knuckles.

After a moment, though, Claire pulled away. "I need to get going," she said, before speeding to the ladder. She stopped before she climbed it and added, "I'll see you around, Bruce."

"I'll see you around, Claire," he replied, but he'd barely finished speaking before she was gone, leaving Bruce to wonder what had just happened.

* * *

Claire dropped the duffel bag and leaned her back against her apartment door once she was back in Metropolis.

Bruce had made her feel on edge, and she didn't know what to do about it. From the way he'd looked at her and the way his heart rate had increased when he touched her—if Claire had to guess, she'd have to say he wanted her. And Claire couldn't help but want him right back, yet she also couldn't stop herself from worrying.

She wondered if Bruce truly did want her, or if she just wanted that to be the case so badly that she was seeing and hearing things that weren't really meaningful. She'd picked up on lust in people before, and she knew that the physical reactions to that were similar to what Bruce had displayed, and that such reactions were usually temporary. She had no guarantee that Bruce really wanted her; he might just want a physical connection with another human being.

And that was the other part of Claire's current problem. Even if Bruce truly did want her, he didn't know she was an alien. He knew she had abilities, but Claire didn't know how he would react if he found out she wasn't from Earth.

She could tell him the truth about her origins, but she debated whether that was her best option. Claire had told a few people about her Kryptonian heritage during the course of her life—some had been fine with it, but others had been hurt because of it.

She wondered if she should really risk Bruce's safety just so that she could find out if he truly wanted every aspect of her. It seemed selfish to consider it, though.

Eventually, Claire decided not to make the first move. If the opportunity arose to tell him, then she would let him know that she was an alien. If not, then she would spare him the burden of knowing that particular secret about her life.

* * *

Days passed, and Claire returned to her version of a routine life. She went to work each weekday, did the best she could at her job, and in her spare time, she fought crime and tried to save people. Her new suits were proving useful with those last tasks, and she knew she needed to pass that along to Bruce and Lucius. She just hadn't found the right moment for that.

Claire realized as she returned to her apartment late on Friday night, though, that Bruce had found the moment for her. He was inside her darkened apartment next to her windowsill when she came up the fire escape. She didn't always use the building's staircases, because she didn't want her neighbors noticing the odd hours she kept.

Bruce opened the window for Claire and offered a hand to help her inside. She couldn't help but wonder what route he'd taken to enter her apartment tonight. Chloe hadn't let him in; she was spending the night at Jimmy's. That meant Bruce had to have found a way to break in.

Claire stopped once she was inside the room, turning toward him before she asked, "So what brings you to my apartment tonight, Mr. Wayne?"

"You needed better locks on your windows," he replied simply.

She took a look at the window. There were tools along the sill and a new, sophisticated lock on the frame.

"It has a biometric scanner," Bruce said. "You can open it with your fingerprint."

Claire could see Bruce, despite the darkness, but for some reason she wanted the lights on. She didn't like this conversation in the shadows, so she sped around the room, flipping switches until the room was illuminated. Claire made one last stop in her room to quickly change out of her Blur suit into a button-up shirt and jeans, before she went back into the den. She'd seen that Bruce was in casual clothing, rather than his batsuit, so Claire decided to be comfortable as well.

"So you just came here to break into my apartment and then install better locks?" Claire asked.

"No," Bruce replied, moving a step closer. "Claire, I—"

"Do you want some coffee?" she asked suddenly, knowing she was delaying the inevitable. She wasn't entirely prepared for this meeting. She'd thought about what she should say to him, but she hadn't worked it all out yet.

"Sure, I'll take some," he answered.

Claire went into the kitchen and put the kettle on the stove, and Bruce followed behind her.

"Claire—"

"Bruce—"

They had spoken simultaneously. Claire turned around to face him and saw that they were only a few feet apart.

"Go ahead," she said, smiling nervously.

"You should go first," Bruce replied. "After all, this is your place."

"Which probably took you a few hours to get to from Gotham," Claire retorted. "You must've had some important reason for traveling that far."

"You were wearing one of the new suits earlier," he said. "Is it working out for you?"

Bruce was starting in safe territory. Claire felt like she could answer this question without trouble. "Yes, the suit's great," she said.

"I'm glad to hear it," Bruce replied. "Now what were you going to say?"

"You didn't come here just to ask me about the suit, did you?" Claire asked.

"No, I didn't," Bruce said, moving closer.

Claire could sense everything she'd sensed before and then some—his quickened pulse, the dark look in his eyes, the scent from his body that smelled only of want. She realized in that moment that this was more than lust or simple longing. She'd seen him around Rachel, and this wasn't the way his body had reacted around her. This was something more.

He wanted her, and she couldn't help it—she wanted him. He was so close now. She only needed to lean forward and her lips would be on his.

But he still didn't know the truth about her.

She pulled back at that thought, and Bruce noticed the movement. "Bruce, I…" she said, trying to explain.

"I should go," he said, moving backward. "I shouldn't have bothered you tonight."

"You aren't bothering me," Claire replied. "It's just that sometimes things are more complicated than they seem."

"Believe me, I understand," Bruce said, as he headed for the door.

"Wait," she said, but she realized she still didn't have it in her to tell him everything. "Do you want me to speed you back to Gotham?"

"No," he answered. "I drove one of my motorcycles here." He grabbed a helmet that she hadn't even noticed was resting on a table, and then he had the door open. "I'll see you around, Claire."

"I'll see you around, Bruce," she replied, just as he exited.

She couldn't believe how tonight had gone. Over the next few minutes, she kept replaying the interaction in her mind. Did he really just show up to change her locks tonight? Why would he do that? He knew she didn't need protection. And why couldn't she just tell him the truth?

Why did everything have to be so difficult between her and Bruce Wayne?

Suddenly, Claire heard footsteps out in the hall. At this hour, she doubted it was one of her neighbors, so she could only assume it was Bruce returning. She felt as if knots were forming in her stomach, and she couldn't explain it.

She shouldn't be so unnerved by him. It seemed silly. She was one of the strongest people on the planet, but right now, it was as if she could understand the phrase "weak in the knees."

It became worse as she approached the door. No one had made her feel physically weak before.

Claire knew what she needed to do. She needed to open that door and face him once and for all.

Before he even had a chance to knock, she turned the knob and pulled the door open, ready to confront Bruce. Only it wasn't Bruce standing in her doorway. It was Van McNulty—a murderer from Smallville who had hunted down meteor-infected individuals and anyone else he didn't consider normal.

Claire had helped put Van in prison back in high school, after he'd murdered several people and tried to kill her. He was supposed to be locked up for a life sentence. Claire didn't know how he could be standing here now.

Before she could react, though, Claire felt a blade slide in just underneath her ribcage. She looked down to see a familiar green glow, and now she understood the weakness she'd experienced. It hadn't been nerves; it was kryptonite.

"Time to die, freak," Van said, as he twisted the blade deeper and pushed her back into the apartment, closing the door behind him.

Claire wanted to scream—she needed to scream, but just as she tried, his right hand wrapped around her throat, blocking her windpipe.

She tried to push him away, but she could tell she was losing strength. She reached for the hand that was pressing the blade into her. If she could put some distance between herself and the blade, then maybe she would have a chance.

But Van noticed the movement. He broke the blade, leaving a shard of it embedded in her—one that she couldn't grab to remove.

Her vision was going out of focus. She heard something drop to the floor—perhaps the other piece of the broken blade, and then she felt both of Van's hands wrap around her neck before she was shoved against a wall.

"You're not walking away this time, freak," Van said menacingly, as Claire struggled to stay conscious…and alive.


	19. Chapter 19

_**Author's Note:**_ _Thank you to everyone who supports this story. Your favorites, follows, and reviews are truly inspirational to me._

 _As previously mentioned, I've altered storylines from the source material to fit the plot of this story. There are also a few teases in this chapter, but I'm hoping to provide you with more chapters and answers soon._

 _Now, as always, thank you for reading!_

* * *

Bruce hurried down the stairwell in Claire's apartment building, trying to put some distance between himself and his latest mistake. He could calculate how a criminal would act and figure out how to stop whatever they had planned, but somehow Claire Kent was a puzzle to him.

It had seemed simple enough. Claire had been avoiding him, so he'd decided to check on her. He'd found an excuse to be in her apartment—putting in new locks on her windows, and once he'd finished his task, he'd waited for her to return home.

When she'd finally shown up, Bruce could tell that she was still trying to avoid him. Every time it felt as if they were being drawn closer together, it seemed as if something was pulling them apart, something he couldn't identify. And Bruce was at war with himself over it.

Part of him thought their inability to connect was for the best. He was the Batman; he didn't need their relationship turning into a distraction from his work.

But another part of him had just wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her until she could understand what he felt and that she had nothing to fear from him. She had become a light in the darkness for him, and he wanted her to see that.

Claire had pulled away from him, though, making the decision for him. He wasn't going to pressure her, but that didn't mean that he was just going to give up. He'd give her space for the time being, as he tried to figure out whatever obstacle stood between them. He was patient, and Claire was worth waiting for.

In the meantime, Bruce would just have to deal with Claire haunting his thoughts.

Suddenly, his phone began to vibrate. Bruce didn't know the number, but it seemed familiar.

"Hello," he said, answering the call.

" _Wayne?_ " the voice on the other end replied, and Bruce recognized it as belonging to Jonathan Kent. For a moment, he wondered if the older man could somehow sense when someone was thinking about his daughter, but Bruce quickly pushed that absurd thought out of his mind. Bruce would've received a number of calls from Jonathan before tonight if that were the case.

"Mr. Kent, what can I do for you?" Bruce asked.

" _Look,_ " Jonathan began, sounding upset, " _Claire gave me this number to call in case of an emergency, and I think this might be one._ "

Bruce could hear fear in the other man's voice. He stopped midway down a flight of stairs and asked seriously, "What's wrong?"

" _Our sheriff just called,_ " Jonathan said. " _She told us that three men that Claire helped put away in high school escaped prison tonight and can't be located. I just tried to reach Claire, and she's not answering her phone._ "

"Are you and your wife in danger?" Bruce asked. Jonathan's story made it sound as if there were criminals on the loose who had a grudge against Claire. Bruce could only assume that these men might target the Kents as a way to hurt Claire.

" _I'm not worried about my wife and I,_ " Jonathan replied. " _I'm worried about Claire._ "

"Mr. Kent, if Claire's beaten these men before, I'm sure she'll be able to do it again," Bruce said, knowing how powerful Claire was.

" _You don't understand, Wayne,_ " Jonathan said. " _Claire…she has a weakness, and at least one of those men knows about it. He nearly killed her once, and I'm not going to let that happen again. Now do you have some other means of contacting her—some way to let her know what's going on?_ "

Time seemed to stand still for Bruce. Claire had a weakness? And on top of that, one that could kill her? Bruce knew about certain of Claire's limits, such as her inability to see through lead, but standing in the stairwell, he realized that he hadn't been diligent in finding her weaknesses. In truth, he didn't want her to have a weakness—or at least not any weakness that someone dangerous could exploit. He'd wanted her to be invincible so that no one could ever take her from him, but now he knew that wasn't the case.

He turned around and began racing up the stairs, taking them two or three at a time. "I'm in Metropolis. I'll get to Claire and keep her safe," Bruce said quickly before hanging up and focusing on the climb.

He'd just left her a few minutes ago, but he knew what could happen in that short amount of time.

As soon as Bruce reached Claire's floor, he rushed out of the stairwell. He knew how good her hearing was. She should have heard how quickly he was running, how the door to the stairwell slammed behind him, how his heart was pounding. Under normal circumstances, she should have opened her door to find out what was wrong.

But her door wasn't opening, and Bruce thought he could hear something going on inside. There was a thud against one of the walls, and Bruce didn't wait to investigate any further. He just reacted. He kicked Claire's door open and took in the scene before him.

Claire was pinned against the far wall by a man with dark hair and tan skin. The man was strangling her, but he turned at the sound of the door opening.

Bruce was across the room in an instant. He dove at the man, tackling him and separating him from Claire. The man tried to put up a fight, but he was no match for Bruce. With one punch, Bruce knocked him out and left him sprawled on Claire's kitchen floor.

Bruce then turned back to Claire. She had slid down the wall, and her eyes were closed. Bruce kneeled down and pulled her into his arms.

She was breathing, but not as strongly as she should. There was a bloody wound on the right side of her abdomen, and it appeared that a fragment of whatever had been used to stab her was still embedded in her flesh. Bruce could see a strange green glow to it underneath the blood. A towel was within reach, so Bruce grabbed it and pressed it to the injury to stem the bleeding.

Bruce's gaze went upward, and he could see that Claire's face was sickly pale and her neck was marred with dark purple bruises.

He looked away from the dreadful injuries for a moment, and his eyes caught sight of another item with a green glow, lying underneath one of Claire's tables. It looked like a small, jagged rock, but Bruce couldn't process what that meant now. He just needed Claire to be awake.

"Claire," Bruce said, hoping that she would open her eyes at the sound of his voice.

He was uncertain about what he should do. For most victims who'd been assaulted this way, Bruce would make sure that they received medical attention as quickly as possible. But Claire was different. She had secrets to keep, and going to a hospital might interfere with that.

Bruce considered calling her father back. Jonathan had said that Claire had nearly died before; perhaps he knew a way to help Claire recover. Just as Bruce was reaching for his phone, though, Claire's eyelids began to flutter.

"Claire!" Bruce repeated, and her eyes opened, looking directly at him.

"Bruce?" she said, sounding unsteady. Suddenly, she became focused as she added, "Van! He was here. He's dangerous. He—"

"It's okay," Bruce assured her. "I took care of him. You're safe."

Claire's eyes looked around the room until they landed on the criminal's unconscious form.

"Why did you come back?" Claire asked.

"Your father called me," Bruce answered. "He told me you might be in danger."

"You should go," Claire said, as she struggled to sit up.

"What?" Bruce asked. He didn't understand her request.

"You should go," Claire repeated, her voice sounding rough. "I need to call the police and have Van arrested again. You being here makes things more complicated."

"That man just tried to kill you," Bruce said grimly. "If I hadn't been here, he might have succeeded."

"And I appreciate that, but—"

"But what?" Bruce asked.

"But this isn't your concern," she answered, with as much determination as she could muster. "This," she said, gesturing to the criminal and to her injury, "it's part of my life. Not yours. You don't want to be pulled into all of this."

"Ra's Al Ghul and his plans to destroy Gotham were part of my life and not yours, but you still forced your way into the middle of all that," Bruce retorted.

"That was different," Claire replied.

"How?" Bruce demanded.

"I knew I could handle that situation."

"And you don't think I can handle whatever this is?" Bruce questioned. He looked back at the unconscious man, and added, "I seem to have done okay so far."

Claire looked like she was going to continue her arguments as she tried to back away from him, but Bruce stopped her completely.

"Look," he began, "if you think our next step should be to call the police, then let's call them. We'll figure out some excuse to explain what I'm doing here, and we'll go from there. But no matter what, I'm not leaving you. Two more inmates broke out with this one, and I'm not going to let you face them on your own."

"She will not be on her own," a voice said from behind them, and Bruce was up in an instant, ready for a fight.

An African-American male, who looked a few years older than Bruce, was standing in Claire's doorway. Bruce could see a gun holster underneath the man's leather trench coat, so he began to analyze the best way to bring this stranger down.

"Easy," Claire said to Bruce from the floor, placing her hand on his. "He's a friend."

"Who are you?" Bruce asked, suspicion still apparent in his voice.

"John Jones," the man replied, striding into the room. "Currently of the Metropolis Police Department. And you are?"

"Bruce Wayne," he answered, observing John with caution.

"I suspected as much," John said, before moving around Bruce toward Claire. "Let's see how bad it is," he added, as he lowered himself to wrap an arm around Claire and pull her up.

"Careful!" Bruce insisted, but the newcomer didn't seem interested in listening to him. Instead, he hoisted Claire up and helped her lean back against a nearby table before pulling the towel away.

Claire winced at the action, but she didn't seem bothered by what this man was doing. If she were—if she'd protested or tried to move away from John, Bruce would have intervened. John had indicated he was with the police, and Claire had said the man was a friend, but Bruce still didn't completely trust him.

Maybe it was that he didn't know much about John. Claire had never mentioned him, and Bruce didn't remember seeing his name in any of the research he'd done into her background. It might've also been John's timing. He'd shown up right after Claire was attacked, but before they'd called the police. Bruce wondered how the man had known to come here tonight.

These issues were no doubt part of the problem, but Bruce knew there was more to it. He couldn't deny that it bothered him to see Claire turning to John for support. She'd wanted Bruce to leave, but she wasn't saying that to John.

Bruce couldn't ignore his misgivings about the man, so he gave in to his need to question him. "What are you doing here?" Bruce asked.

"Assisting a friend," John answered plainly, as his fingers prodded along the stab wound.

"No," Bruce began. "Why did you come here tonight? You got here before we've even had a chance to call the police."

"I imagine that I used similar tactics to those that you employed this evening," John said. "I learned that Van McNulty, Ian Randall, and Justin Gaines escaped from prison a few hours ago, and knowing their history with Claire, I thought that perhaps at least one of them might stop here and attempt to exact some sort of vengeance on Claire. That was my reason for coming here, Mr. Wayne."

"Well, you were right," Claire said, her breathing still labored. "Now we need to call the police—and we should tell them to go to Jimmy's as well. They might be after Chloe too."

"I agree," John replied. "I'll have a squad car sent there to bring Chloe back here. Now, we need to come up with a plausible story, and we might have an easier time explaining all of this to the officers if they can see your bruises. Can you deal with this?"

John was looking at the stab wound when he posed his question.

"I'll live," Claire said. "We can bandage this up so the police won't notice it, and then get the shard out once they're gone."

"Very well," John said, but Bruce didn't like that answer. He didn't like seeing Claire in pain, and he wanted it to end now.

"Bruce, you should go," Claire said. "We've got this from here."

Bruce was about to argue with her again, but John beat him to it.

"Actually," John began, "I believe that Mr. Wayne should stay."

"What?" Claire asked in disbelief.

"Once you call the police, you can explain why I'm here," John said. "I'll say I was in the area when I heard the call over the radio. It would still be difficult, though, to explain how weak Claire Kent managed to overpower Mr. McNulty and knock him unconscious, especially after he'd beat you up like this."

"What do you suggest then?" Claire asked.

"We say that Mr. Wayne had visited you here earlier in the day, perhaps for an interview," John said.

"Or to ask about your father's campaign," Bruce offered.

"That sounds reasonable," John replied. "Then we'll say that Mr. Wayne went out afterward to enjoy his evening, became inebriated—"

"Inebriated?" Bruce interrupted. "Why would you say I was drunk as part of your story?"

"Would you rather the Metropolis police think that you came here to Claire's apartment with a clear mind in the middle of the night, and have them infer what they will from that?" John questioned. Bruce knew what the police would think—that he and Claire were sleeping together. He wasn't going to make Claire deal with that sort of gossip, so he didn't argue about the story any further.

"We'll go with inebriated," Claire said.

"Very well," John replied. "After that, Mr. Wayne will say that he thought he'd lost something—perhaps his cellphone. He decided to retrace his steps and made his way back here in hopes of finding it. Only instead, he found Mr. McNulty attacking you."

"Okay. I guess that's believable enough," Claire said, with her hand pressed against her side. "Let's do this."

* * *

In less than an hour, the police had come in and taken away the man that had attacked Claire. They'd believed the cover story, and that Bruce had sobered up when he saw Claire being strangled.

Bruce watched Claire while she sat on her couch being interviewed, and he could tell that she was suffering. She'd cleaned up so there was no sign of blood on her, but her skin was eerily pale and the bruises on her neck were still prominent.

Claire had taken his leather jacket. Bruce had offered it to her, saying it would be a convincing part of their story for him to have wrapped it around her. In truth, though, he'd seen how Claire was trying to stifle shivers, and Bruce couldn't stand it. He'd wanted to help her more, but if all she was willing to do was take his jacket, then he would at least give her that.

Somehow, despite the pain she had to be enduring, Claire was making it through it all. Eventually only one detective remained in her apartment other than John, trying to tie up a few loose ends.

"So Miss Kent," the detective began, "is your cellphone the best way to reach you in case we have any further questions, or do you have a landline?"

"The cellphone works best," Claire replied, somewhat shakily. "In fact, I think I may go spend some time at parents' house while I recover."

"You're free to do so, ma'am," the detective said. "If the other two idiots that escaped with McNulty have any sense, they'll be running toward a border, rather than try to act on some old high school grudge. But just in case, I'd recommend that you be vigilant. You have my number and Detective Jones' if you need them, right?"

"Yes," Claire answered.

"Well then, I guess that covers everything I need for my report," the man said. He looked at Claire's bruises warily before adding, "You're sure you don't want to go to a hospital?"

"I'm certain, Detective," Claire said. "Thank you for asking."

"I'll wait here until Miss Sullivan arrives, Harris," John said. "You can head on home, though."

"You sure, Jones?"

"Of course," John replied. "No point in us both staying."

"Fair enough," the other detective said before standing and moving toward the door next to Bruce. The man looked back at Claire and added, "Take care of yourself, Miss Kent." He then turned to Bruce, offering his hand before he said, "And nice punch, Mr. Wayne. You need a lift anywhere?"

"Thank you, Detective," Bruce said, shaking the other man's hand. "But I think I'll stay for a bit—see if I can change Miss Kent's mind about going to a hospital." Bruce didn't mean it; he knew Claire didn't want to see any doctors. But he also knew that his response would sound like a plausible reason for his staying.

"Good luck with that," the detective told him before walking out the door. Bruce closed it and then turned back to Claire in time to watch her slump forward.

Bruce was there in an instant, kneeling in front of her and helping to keep her upright. He placed one hand on her uninjured side and the other against her cheek to provide her with support.

"I'm okay," she said, pulling back from him.

"No, you're not," Bruce asserted.

"No, I'm not," Claire said, finally agreeing with Bruce. "But I will be," she added. "You should go now."

Bruce had lost track of how many times Claire had pulled away from him or dismissed him tonight, but he knew that it was more times than he'd wanted. This time, though, he was going to listen to her. He had a plan forming in his mind, and he needed to take action, but he wasn't going to leave unless she was certain about wanting him gone.

"Are you sure?" he asked, standing and taking a step back.

"Positive," she replied.

"Claire will be fine," John added. "You don't need to worry."

"Of course not," Bruce said harshly. "What is there to worry about? Just someone nearly killing her tonight and two more people out there who might be intent on trying the same thing?"

"I'll deal with it," Claire said, sounding determined.

"At your parents' house?" Bruce asked.

"Van, Justin, and Ian—they were all from Smallville," Claire said. "Justin and Ian might head back that way to find some familiar territory. And…" Claire began, hesitating about something before finally adding, "And I stopped them before, and they knew it was me. There's a possibility that they might try something against my parents to get back at me. I need to be there."

"I've been in contact with your parents over the last hour," John said. "Your father's keeping an eye out, and he said he would notify us if there were any trouble. Still, I agree with your choice to go there."

"Well, I guess there's no reason for me to stay here any longer then," Bruce said, walking toward the door. "I'll see you around, Claire," he added.

"I'll see you around, Bruce," she replied.

"Take care of yourself," he said, looking back at her from the doorway.

"You too," Claire said, watching him go.

He didn't like leaving her in the state she was in, but there didn't seem to be any point to further arguing the matter. She wanted him gone, so he was going—just not to the place she probably thought.

Bruce pulled out his phone and quickly dialed a number as he headed down the stairs.

" _Wayne residence,_ " Alfred answered after two rings.

"Alfred," Bruce began, "I need you to get on my computer and look up some information for me."

" _Of course, sir,_ " Alfred replied. " _What else could I possibly have to do at three in the morning?_ "

"This is important," Bruce said. "Someone tried to kill Claire tonight, and there are two more men out there who might try to do the same thing."

" _Someone tried to kill Miss Kent? Is she all right?_ " Alfred questioned.

"For the most part," Bruce answered. "But I need to make sure she stays safe."

" _What can I do, sir?_ " Alfred asked.

"I need you to look up everything you can find on a Justin Gaines and an Ian Randall," Bruce said. "They were both from Smallville, and both of them would have criminal records from within the last ten years."

" _Of course, sir. I'll have the information gathered and waiting for you._ "

"Actually, Alfred, I'm going to need another favor," Bruce said, as he reached the first floor and headed for the neighboring alleyway. "I need you to read me everything you find."

" _Everything, sir?_ " Alfred asked. " _You don't want to just review it yourself when you're back?_ "

"I'm not headed back to Gotham," Bruce replied, stepping onto his motorcycle. "I'm headed somewhere else, and I've got a long ride ahead of me. It'll save time if you can read the information to me as I drive."

" _Very well, sir,_ " Alfred said, before clearing his throat.

"And pull up anything you can find on the meteorites that hit Smallville," Bruce added, removing the rock he'd retrieved from Claire's floor from his back pocket. He'd remembered from his earlier research on Claire descriptions of the meteorites from her hometown, how they were green and how they might've been the reason that some people developed abilities.

He'd found it odd that Claire had apparently been stabbed by one of the rocks, so he'd taken the one he'd found on Claire's floor, and now he stowed it away in the box on his motorcycle. He wanted more details on the meteorites to make sure he hadn't missed anything before.

Bruce knew it would be a chore for Alfred, but having this information—on the criminals and on the meteor rocks—would help Bruce to keep Claire safe.

And that was his primary mission right now.

* * *

Claire was grateful that Chloe had volunteered to drive them to Smallville. Her injuries had improved the minute that John had removed the shard of kryptonite, but she still didn't feel completely healed. It didn't help either that the sun wasn't up yet. She could see the first rays of it across the Ben Hubbard's fields, but it wasn't enough to fully recharge her.

John had decided to stay in Metropolis. He would have an easier time tracking down Ian and Justin using his resources at the station, and Claire appreciated the fact that he also would be keeping an eye on her city while she was in Smallville. John was capable—whether he had his powers or not, and Claire knew she could depend on him.

As they approached the farm, Claire took the opportunity to test her abilities. She closed her eyes and allowed her hearing to expand until she could make out sounds from her house. She could hear her mother in the kitchen, putting together breakfast, and her father was working on the tractor on the road leading up to their house. Those sounds were expected, but suddenly Claire picked up on a third human heartbeat, coming from their barn.

"Chloe," she began, opening her eyes, "you need to drive faster."

"What is it?" Chloe asked, nervously. "Is it Ian or Justin?"

"No, it's worse," Claire replied.

Chloe pulled up near her father, and Claire quickly exited the vehicle. She barely acknowledged her father; she was focused on heading to the barn.

"Where are you going?" Chloe yelled behind her.

"I need to take care of something," she answered.

Claire entered the familiar structure—a place that had been her refuge during difficult times in her youth—and found the source of the third heartbeat. As she'd thought, Bruce Wayne was in her barn, loading bales of hay into her father's truck. The task was strenuous, and Claire could clearly see the defined muscles at work along Bruce's arms and chest underneath his white t-shirt. She also noticed her golden retriever Shelby comfortably watching Bruce work from a corner, apparently undisturbed by the presence of a stranger in the barn.

But Claire wasn't going to be so easily distracted by the show that Bruce was putting on. "What are you doing here?" she asked him.

"Getting ready to distribute these among the fields with your father," Bruce replied without even looking at her.

"I can see what you're doing right now," Claire said. "I just don't understand why you're here doing this. Why aren't you back in Gotham?"

"Because last night when I left your apartment, I rode my motorcycle here instead of to Gotham," Bruce answered nonchalantly.

"Bruce, you know what I meant," Claire insisted.

"Someone tried to kill you last night, Claire," Bruce said seriously, stopping his work and turning toward her. "And there are two more people out there who might try to do the same thing to you, and I'm not going to let that happen. I know you and your friend John made it seem like you had everything under control, but I'm not going to just walk away and leave you to handle this on your own."

Claire could hear the determination in Bruce's voice, and she wondered if she would be able to convince him to change his mind. Her arguments last night clearly hadn't worked. Even though she'd still held back on the extraterrestrial parts of her life, her main points were valid. Her world was filled with freaks and chaos, and Bruce had enough to deal with on his own—he didn't need to involve himself in her troubles.

But she could see the look in his eyes. He wanted to be here.

"I'm not going to talk you out of this, am I?" Claire said.

"No, you're not," Bruce replied, lifting another bale. He deposited it in the truck and then moved to repeat the process.

"You don't need to do the chores," Claire said, moving in front of Bruce to stop him.

"I'm earning my keep," Bruce responded, maneuvering around her.

"What?" she asked, just as a strange feeling passed over her.

"Your parents have been generous enough to offer me a room in your house for as long as I need to stay here," Bruce answered, going back to his work. "A few chores are the least I can do."

"But you really don't have to," Claire said, a bit uneasily. She began to wonder if a fragment of the kryptonite might still be inside her. She tried to ignore it, though, and returned to her conversation with Bruce. "I'm here. I can take care of all of this in a matter of minutes."

"You were stabbed last night," Bruce replied. "And what was it you said to me when I was injured? Something about not straining myself? Maybe you should follow your own advice."

"I don't need to follow the same advice as everyone else," Claire said. "The same rules don't apply to me."

She didn't entirely believe what she'd just said—not with the way she was suddenly feeling, but she didn't want Bruce to know that. She looked at his face, though, and found that he was studying her. From the look in his eyes, she could tell he'd picked up on something.

"It doesn't take much, does it?" he asked, reaching for something in his back pocket. Claire was only somewhat surprised when she saw a piece of meteor rock in his hand.

"You got that from my apartment?" she asked, already knowing the answer—that the rock was the other half of Van's weapon.

"I did," Bruce answered. "But it's easy enough to find it nearly anywhere in this town. Randall and Gaines will have ready access to it once they start looking."

"I know that they're probably aware of my weakness," Claire said, as steadily as she could manage. "And I'll deal with it."

" _We'll_ deal with it," Bruce replied. "Now, is there anything we can do about this?"

Bruce was referring to the kryptonite in his hand. Claire looked at it and then went to the toolbox that her father kept in the middle of the barn. She opened it and found the lead box that was stored inside.

She lifted the lid on the box and said, "In here."

Bruce put the rock inside, and Claire closed everything up. The moment she did, she began to feel better, and it helped too that the morning sun was rising behind her. Claire could tell that her strength was returning as she turned back to face Bruce, who was once again looking at her intently.

"How many people know what the meteor rock does to you?" he asked.

"Only a handful," Claire answered. "Everyone here on the farm, John, and a few others like Van who figured it out."

"You trust John with that information?" Bruce asked, and Claire could hear something that sounded like bitterness in his voice.

"Yes, I trust him," she said. "I told you he's a friend of mine."

"And do you tell all of your friends what the meteor rock does to you?" he asked, harshness still apparent in his tone.

She moved a step closer to him, seeing anger in his features, but then she realized it wasn't anger—it was jealousy.

"Is that what this is about?" Claire asked. "That he knew about the meteor rock but not you? You should know that I don't exactly go around advertising how people could kill me."

"But you told him."

"He knew," Claire stated. "I didn't tell him anything. He's just known me a long time, and he's found out some of my secrets along the way."

Bruce's features softened a bit at that. "Fair enough," he said, gazing at her as if he wanted to say something more. But suddenly, he turned back toward the hay, and added, "Now I told your father I was going to get this done, and he's not the sort of man I want to disappoint. I don't care if the same rules apply to you or not, I'm doing this."

"Fine," Claire replied. "You win. I'll just head inside and leave these chores to you."

"Now you're sounding reasonable," Bruce said, with smugness in his voice.

Claire started to walk out of the barn, passing Shelby as she went. "Are you coming with me or are you staying with him?" she asked her dog.

Shelby lifted his head, looking at her as if he were deeply considering her question. Finally, he rested his head back down on his forelegs, clearly deciding to stay in Bruce's company.

"Traitor," she whispered to Shelby as she left the barn.

Once outside, Claire noticed that her father was no longer working on the tractor. Scanning the area, she saw that he had gone inside the house to help Chloe with their luggage. Claire then headed into the house herself, stopping in the kitchen to talk to her mother.

"Need a hand?" Claire asked her, seeing that her mother was in the process of baking.

"I'm almost done," her mother replied. "And you should be taking it easy."

"I'm fine," Claire said.

"Are you sure about that?" her mother asked seriously. "Bruce filled us in on most of what happened, and none of it sounded good."

"I'm sure Bruce was exaggerating," Claire said.

"Claire, I remember the day Van shot you," her mother replied. "You almost died on the floor over there."

Claire remembered that day too. Van had shot her with a bullet he'd made from kryptonite, and her parents had been forced to use pliers to remove it from her shoulder. The pain had been unbearable—the worst that Claire had ever felt up until that point of her life.

Last night had been similar. Claire knew she was lucky to still be alive and lucky that Bruce had shown up when he did. She didn't want to admit it; she wasn't used to needing someone to protect her, and she didn't like the thought of bringing Bruce into her problems. He already knew too much about her. If he learned anything more, who knew what sort of danger he might be in.

But here they were. Two convicts were on the loose somewhere who most likely knew how to kill her, and Bruce was currently staying on her family's farm. She didn't know how to deal with it all, but she was going to have to figure it out.

"Van's already in custody, Mom," Claire said, trying to sound reassuring. "And soon enough Justin and Ian will be too. I've got this."

"Bruce seems more concerned about it," her mother replied.

"Maybe Bruce worries too much," Claire said.

"Or maybe you don't worry enough, Claire. This is your life we're talking about."

"And Bruce Wayne doesn't need to be involving himself in it," Claire replied.

"Is that what this is about?" her mother asked. "You don't want Bruce's help?"

"I shouldn't want his help, right?" Claire asked. "I thought Dad considered him some crazed vigilante that I shouldn't associate with."

"Well, I don't think that way about him," her mother replied. "And I think your father's starting to warm to him. Bruce saved your life last night, and he's doing chores this morning without complaining—both of which seem to be helping in winning your father over."

"Maybe I just don't want Bruce to be a part of this," Claire said.

"And why's that?" her mother asked, as she studied Claire's face closely. "What's going on, Claire?"

"Nothing," Claire answered, but she could see from the look on her mother's face that her answer wasn't satisfactory. "Look, Bruce doesn't know everything about me. He knows I'm the Blur and that I have abilities, but mostly that's it. He doesn't know I'm an alien or any of the other craziness in my life, and I'd like to keep it that way."

"Why? You trust him with your other secrets," her mother said.

"I don't want him to know anything else," Claire said with a sigh. "And it's not about trust; it's about the pain that my secrets cause."

"Claire," her mother began, trying to stop her, but Claire didn't let her continue.

"I've made mistakes in the past," Claire said. "I shouldn't have told my secret to as many people as I have."

"But Claire, your father and I know the truth. Chloe knows the truth. And none of us would change that."

"But look at how many times your lives have been in danger because of it. Look at how many other people have been hurt because of it," Claire argued.

"People that you care about," her mother said.

"Yes, people that I care about."

"And is that what the problem really is?" her mother asked. "That you care about Bruce?"

"Of course, I care about Bruce," Claire said. "He's a good man and a friend."

"But there's something keeping you from being more than friends? Something keeping you from sharing all your secrets with him?" her mother asked. Not living under the same roof every day, Claire had almost forgotten just how insightful her mother was, especially when it came to reading her emotions.

"I don't want to make a mistake," Claire admitted.

"What makes you think telling him would be a mistake?"

"Because I've made too many mistakes in the past," Claire answered. "Pete…Lon…Arthur. When was telling the truth not a mistake for me?"

"Mistakes are a part of everyone's life, Claire," her mother said. "Just don't make another one because you're too afraid of the consequences. Listen to your gut on this."

"And if my gut isn't being helpful?"

"Have you tried listening to your heart?"

"Mom—"

"Don't say anything," her mother interrupted. "Just think about it."

Claire was thinking about it. She'd been having trouble _not_ thinking about Bruce lately, and she couldn't ignore how determined he was to stay by her side. She'd lost too many people because of her secrets, but Bruce was capable, more capable than most humans she knew—and there was no denying the connection between them. He wasn't going to leave, and a part of her didn't want him to. She could depend on him, and for that reason, Claire thought it only fair that she share the truth with Bruce.

It would mean a new risk for him, but if Bruce was willing to take it, then she had to find a way to tell him.


	20. Chapter 20

_**Author's Note:**_ _Thanks to everyone for your favorites, follows, and reviews. This chapter contains a few moments that I believe readers have been waiting for, so I hope you enjoy._

 _Now, as always, thank you for reading!_

* * *

It had been a long day for Bruce. He hadn't slept since the night before last, and he'd started today in his own personal version of hell. His life had been filled with darkness, and seeing Claire beaten and stabbed had disturbed him as much as the worst horrors he'd witnessed.

He'd been trying to keep it together since then. He needed to protect her, and to do that, he needed to stay focused.

Bruce had learned everything that he could about the two criminals that were still at large. Like McNulty, they'd just been teenagers when they'd first committed murder, but unlike him, they hadn't received military training during their youth. Alfred had pulled their records from prison, though, and the three of them had often been seen together. It was quite possible that McNulty had taught Randall and Gaines a few things, and that bothered Bruce.

McNulty had come close to killing Claire twice. Bruce hated that a man so dangerous possessed knowledge of Claire's weakness and that McNulty had most likely shared that knowledge with others.

Bruce began to dwell on Claire's weakness—the meteor rock. It was no doubt the source of her abilities, but apparently it was also her greatest vulnerability. Lead seemed to block its effects, but he didn't know if that fact could help him. He didn't think he could convince Claire to wear a lead suit until he'd had a chance to catch Randall and Gaines. She was too stubborn.

For now, it seemed like the best way for him to protect her would be to stay as close to her as possible. To that end, he'd spent the day at her family's farm, doing hard labor.

He should be asleep now, given how long he'd been awake and the arduous work he'd put his body through, but every time he tried, he failed. He would close his eyes only to revisit McNulty's attack on Claire. In his dream, he was too late. No matter how he tried to wake her, Claire's eyes wouldn't open and her body became cold.

It was a nightmare, and Bruce didn't see any point in going through it again. He didn't try to sleep anymore; instead, he left his bed and went downstairs to patrol the house in sweatpants and a t-shirt. Alfred had shipped the clothes to him along with a few other items in an express delivery package that had reached him in a matter of hours earlier that day. Bruce didn't need his wealth to survive, but occasionally, it had its advantages.

He now circled the exterior of the house, and when he didn't find anything, he headed back inside.

Bruce walked into the kitchen and petted Shelby, who was sitting by the back door. Bruce tried to be quiet as he moved, not wanting to disturb the rest of the house. When he saw Claire enter the darkened room, though, he realized he hadn't been successful.

"Do you ever sleep?" she asked, looking at him critically as she stood across the room from him in pajama pants, a t-shirt, and his leather jacket. Her glasses were off and her hair was down. Bruce had thought of her as beautiful for some time now no matter what she was wearing, but at this moment, he felt like he was looking at the true version of her. She didn't have on any mask or disguise—it was just her standing in front of him, and she was a vision. And he liked the sight of her in his jacket too.

He was staring, and Claire seemed to notice. "I left my robe in Metropolis," she said, apparently thinking that he was only looking at the jacket. "So, no explanation for your sleeping habits—or lack thereof?" she continued, and Bruce realized he hadn't responded.

"Someone should be keeping watch," Bruce replied. "I decided to do a sweep of the grounds."

"I can do that," she said.

"You're the one they might be after," he argued.

"Right," she began, "which makes this my problem to deal with. I should be the one handling any sweeps of the grounds."

"And what happens if they get to you when you decide to go out on your own?" Bruce retorted.

"And what happens when you fall over from exhaustion?" Claire questioned. "What good are you to me or anyone if you're passed out from a lack of sleep?"

"I can deal with getting less sleep than most people," he answered. "And I'm not the one that needs to recover from a recent stab wound."

"I'm already recovered from that," Claire said. "And I need far less sleep than you do, so I suggest you go get some rest. I'll take watch for the rest of the night."

"No, you won't."

"Yes, I will," Claire stated. "And this is my house, so stop arguing with me and just do as you're told."

"And if I say no?" Bruce asked.

He hadn't noticed, but as they'd fought, both he and Claire had moved closer to one another. He was only a foot away from her.

"Then," Claire began before pausing and looking in his eyes for a moment, "I guess I wouldn't be surprised. But…if you're going to be stubborn and try to stay on guard all night, then don't expect me to just sit on the sidelines."

"You think I can't convince you," Bruce said, staring at her.

"You could try," she replied with a smile, before taking a step back. "But you won't succeed." She moved to the refrigerator and pulled on the handle. Claire was illuminated by its light as she retrieved a carton of juice from inside. She took a drink directly from it, and then looked back at him.

"I know," Claire began. "You'd think I'd learned my manners on a farm."

"I'm not going to judge," Bruce replied, moving toward her, taking the carton out of her hand, and drinking from it as well.

"Do you mean that?" she asked, looking at him closely. From her tone, Bruce knew that she wasn't just asking about whether he was going to judge her manners; she wanted to know whether she could confide in him about something else.

It had to be whatever was keeping them apart. He moved closer to her, saying, "Claire, you can—"

"Stop," she interrupted, holding up her hand to his chest to separate them. "Just stop."

Bruce stood still, but he continued speaking, "Claire, look, I get keeping secrets. I can understand that. But don't pull away from me. If you don't trust me enough to tell me that the meteor rocks that gave you your abilities are also your greatest weakness, then fine. Just tell me what I need to do for you to let me in."

"I trust you," she said, letting her one hand on his chest slide directly above his heart, while the other moved to take the carton back from him. "It's just…"

"Complicated?" he offered.

"I was going to say risky," Claire replied.

"You think I'm afraid of a little risk?" Bruce asked.

"I think I'm afraid for you," she answered, before beginning to move away from him.

"Claire," he said, wanting to stop her.

She held up one finger, though, silently requesting a moment. He would give it to her—of course he would. He'd give her anything she asked for at this point.

"You don't understand the risk," Claire said. "People who've known the truth about me—some of them have been hurt because of it, and some of them…some of them have died. It's a danger and a burden you can't possibly want to add to your life."

"Why don't you let me be the one to decide that?" Bruce said. "Some dangers and burdens are worth it."

Claire studied him, but Bruce wasn't giving up. He'd meant what he'd said, and he wasn't going to back down.

"Fine," she said before taking another drink from the carton. "The truth is I didn't get my abilities _from_ the meteor rocks…I came to this planet _with_ the meteor rocks."

Bruce suddenly understood her secrecy. She wasn't just another person from Smallville who'd developed powers; Claire was an alien. It was unbelievable to have proof that life existed on other planets standing right in front of him, but then again, Bruce had found nearly everything about Claire unbelievable, not just this new fact. She was the strongest being that Bruce had ever known, but she didn't expect people to bow down to her because of that. Instead, she chose to help people whenever possible.

And Bruce couldn't ignore how he felt about her. He realized in that moment that he didn't care where she'd come from; he was just grateful that she was here on Earth now—with him.

Seconds had passed, and Bruce noticed that they had gone by in silence.

"So basically, I'm not from around here," Claire explained, ending the quiet.

"And you think I'd be scared by that fact? By you?" he asked.

"I think you should be," she almost whispered. "Most people would be," she said in a more normal tone, looking at him.

"Well," he began, moving towards her and once more taking the carton of juice from her, "I guess it's a good thing that I'm not like most people." He took another drink, undisturbed by the thought that alien lips had last drunk from it. When he then set the carton on the counter and looked in her eyes, he could see something clearly there—relief. She was relieved that he wasn't bothered by the fact that she was from another world.

"Bruce," she started, stepping directly in front of him and letting her hands rest on his chest. "Can I show you something?"

"Anything," he replied. One of her hands slid to the side of his neck, and the other went to his waist. Bruce knew that she wanted to speed him away somewhere, so his own hands went to her hips, gripping them tightly.

"Hold on," she whispered, but Bruce didn't need to be told. He had no intention of letting go.

In an instant, they were outside the house in the middle of her family's field. The storm cellar door was on the ground right next to them, and as Claire moved to open it, Bruce guided his hand from her hip to her free hand, letting their fingers intertwine.

"Down here," she said, leading him down the steps into the darkened cellar. She turned on a light switch when they reached the bottom, and Bruce could see an assortment of dusty objects throughout the room. Claire led him toward a corner, where something large rested, covered by a blanket.

She grabbed the blanket, pulling it off and unveiling the mysterious item underneath. "This was the ship that brought me to Earth," Claire said.

Bruce studied the strange craft as Claire continued to speak, telling him more secrets than he'd expected to learn. She'd been sent to Earth as a newborn, when her homeworld of Krypton was dying. Her biological parents had wanted to give her a chance at life, and now she was the only survivor of Krypton, living on a distant planet where her physiological differences provided her with unique abilities.

Claire's main weakness was kryptonite—radioactive pieces of her homeworld that had followed behind in her ship's wake.

"So now you know basically everything," she said.

"Not everything," he replied, standing in front of her and looking her in the eye.

"Not everything?" she questioned. "What did I leave out?"

"Do you know what they named you? Your birth parents?" Bruce asked.

"Kara Jor-El," Claire replied. "Kryptonian women take their father's name as their last name."

"And Kara is your first name?"

"But please still call me Claire," she requested. "It's the only name I've ever really considered mine."

"Other than the Blur, you mean?" Bruce teased. He knew that her alter ego had been given a name by the press, and it wasn't of her choosing.

"Not all of us are so fortunate as to be able to pick our own alias, Batman," she said.

Bruce had told criminals what to call him, and he'd let Claire know that. She'd called him lucky before for being able to pick that, instead of letting the public decide on a name for him.

"So how many people know about all of this?" Bruce asked, letting his gaze move from her to the ship.

"My parents, Chloe, John, a few others," Claire said. "And now you."

"So John knows about this too?" Bruce asked, trying to contain his jealousy, but failing. It bothered him how much Claire seemed to trust this other man with secrets that Bruce hadn't found out until tonight, and Bruce couldn't conceal that fact from her.

"Yes, John knows about this," Claire said. "But like I told you—it wasn't because I told him. He already knew."

"How?" Bruce asked, concerned about this man prying into Claire's secrets.

"I shouldn't tell you," Claire said, sighing in frustration.

"You shouldn't tell me?" Bruce repeated. "Why not?"

"Because it's not my secret to tell," Claire replied. She looked at him intently after that, and she had to see how upset he was. "All right," she finally relented. "If you want to know, you have to promise me you won't tell anyone."

"Claire—" he began.

"Promise me," she said sternly.

"Of course, I promise," he gave in, wanting to know the truth.

"My father told John about me," Claire explained. "He wanted him to keep an eye on me."

"Your father?" Bruce asked, not understanding why Jonathan Kent would choose to trust a random cop from Metropolis.

"My biological father," Claire said.

"Jor-El?" Bruce questioned. "Why would he ask for John's help?"

"Because John's not from around here either," Claire said, and suddenly everything became clear to Bruce. John was an alien too. That was how he knew about Claire.

"So John's an alien, but there's nothing between you two?" Bruce asked.

"Are you always so jealous?" Claire questioned.

"Only when it comes to you," Bruce replied.

They were inches apart again, and this time, Claire wasn't pulling away. He brought his right hand up to her cheek, letting his thumb trace the outer edge of her lip.

Suddenly, she closed the distance between them, and her lips were upon his. Bruce responded forcefully, taking all that she was willing to give. He weaved his fingers into her hair, drawing her head closer to his and deepening the kiss.

Her right hand went up to rest upon his cheek, as his left hand became more adventurous. He guided it underneath the jacket she currently wore and found a grip on her waist. She moaned as his fingers slid under the hem of her shirt and began caressing the skin he found there.

It was a comfort to him to have physical proof that his nightmare had only been in his mind. Right now, he could feel the warmth radiating from her body, and the skin across her abdomen was unmarked. There were no signs of McNulty's stab wound. She was alive and healthy, and no one was going to take her from him—Bruce was determined about that.

He didn't know how long the kiss lasted; he just knew that when Claire began to pull away, he wanted to try to convince her to stop.

But he didn't. Bruce had decided that he wasn't going to pressure her, so he was following her lead—however disappointing it might be.

"You know," she began, as her fingers combed through his hair, "they say it's all downhill after the first kiss."

"I'm pretty sure that only counts if you're kissing a human," Bruce replied, and a bright smile appeared on Claire's face. He could tell that she liked the fact that he accepted what she was and that he wasn't repulsed by it.

In honesty, Bruce didn't know how anyone could be repulsed by her. She was beautiful and kind and warm. And right now, she was his, and so long as she didn't pull away, he was going to make the most of it.

His lips found hers once more. He knew he was being aggressive, but she kept pace with him. Her tongue was dancing with his, and his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her tightly against him.

Bruce knew that he should end this—or at the very least slow down. Claire had nearly been killed less than 24 hours ago.

But he couldn't bring himself to stop what he was currently doing. He would kiss her for as long as she would let him.

And of course, it didn't last long enough. A moment later, she pulled away from him, and Bruce could see a look of fear on her face.

Before he could question her, Claire said one word, "Shelby."

They were back at the house in an instant, and Bruce understood what she'd meant. From the porch they could hear Shelby inside the kitchen, barking loudly.

"They're out there," Claire said, looking toward the barn. "I can hear three heartbeats."

She looked at him like she needed to explain why there were three heartbeats when only two men were supposed to be after her. "It's Justin and—"

"Two heartbeats for Randall," he interrupted. He'd had Alfred read everything he could find on the two convicts, including the stories that most people didn't believe. He knew that Randall supposedly had the ability to divide himself into two people, and that he'd used that skill to create alibis for his crimes.

"I'm going out there. Stay here and make sure none of them get in the house," she said, before speeding away. Bruce had tried to stop her, but she was gone before he could.

He understood that she didn't want anyone harming her family, but he was there to make sure that no one harmed her—even if that meant ignoring her request.

* * *

Claire paused at the entrance to the barn. Justin and Ian knew about her—her abilities and weaknesses—but she knew about them too. She'd stopped them before, and she just needed to stop them again before they hurt anyone else.

She could hear two of them inside on the ground floor, and the third was in the loft above. If she could speed through the barn and knock them out, she figured she could end this before they could act.

Suddenly, though, Claire found she couldn't move. Her arms and legs were frozen, but somehow she was going forward—almost as if something was pulling her.

As she entered the barn, she realized that Justin was pulling her inside. After an accident in high school, he'd gained the ability to move things with his mind, and right now, he was using that ability on her.

Soon enough, Claire was hovering inches off the ground right in front of Justin and one of the copies of Ian. She could move her eyes to look at her surroundings, but her limbs still weren't responding.

"Now, if it isn't the girl who ruined our lives," Justin said. He approached her, standing only inches away from her, before adding, "We've been waiting a long time to make you pay for that."

"And there's nothing you can do to stop us this time," Ian added.

"Want to bet?" Claire said, as she strained against Justin's telekinetic hold. His powers might be stronger than they were back in high school, but so were hers.

Claire's eyes went upward to the beams directly above her captors, and she used her heat vision to cut one loose. It fell on Justin, knocking him down and breaking his concentration, which simultaneously freed Claire.

She regained control over her limbs, but the other Ian had already hurried down the stairs behind her, bringing kryptonite with him. He grabbed her shoulder and pressed a meteor rock against her back.

Claire quickly felt its effects. Her legs gave out, and her knees collided with the floor.

"Your abilities aren't going to save you this time," the first Ian said. "McNulty told us how to deal with those."

"Even if that idiot couldn't keep to the plan," the second Ian began, "he was useful for something." He let go of Claire's shoulder to reach into a bag he carried. From the way she was feeling, Claire could tell that there was more kryptonite inside.

The second Ian tossed one of the rocks to his lookalike, who then brought it closer to Claire. She cringed as the glowing meteorite approached her face, and she tried to move away.

"Hold her still!" the first Ian ordered Justin, who'd managed to recover his footing.

Claire was once again immobilized, and with the kryptonite so close, she couldn't harness her abilities to use against them. She'd told Bruce to stay at the house, so right now, her wits seemed like her only defense.

"So this is your big plan?" she asked. "All those years in jail, and this is what you come up with? Bringing meteor rock in here and then what—killing me? That's a great plan. Real original."

"It's effective," the first Ian replied. "If we'd escaped and just left you alive, you'd hunt us down and make sure we ended up right where we started—this time with tighter locks on the doors."

"And more meds to try to make us be normal," Justin added. "They've been doping me up for years now, trying to suppress my abilities, but I finally found a way around their pathetic attempts. And I'm not going back to life as a vegetable."

"You needed to be stopped, Justin," Claire replied. "You killed and mutilated people."

"People who deserved it," Justin argued.

"You know that's not true," Claire said. Justin had killed their high school principal, thinking that the man had been responsible for the hit-and-run accident that had left Justin's hands irreparably damaged. They'd found out that the principal's son had actually been behind the wheel, but by then it was too late. Justin's quest for vengeance had already made him a murderer.

"It doesn't matter," Justin stated. "We're getting out of this hellhole, and we're not leaving anyone here who might try to stop us."

"Snap her neck," the first Ian demanded.

"Or rip her head off completely," the second Ian suggested. "Even she can't heal from something like that."

"You don't want to do this," Claire said.

"And why's that?" Justin asked, as Claire could feel his telekinetic grip tighten around her neck. "Because you're going to give us some moral high ground speech about how killing is bad?"

"No," Claire said, her voice rough. "Because he's going to kick your asses."

Justin and the Ians looked at each other, confusion apparent on their faces. They hadn't seen the figure that Claire had spotted moving through the shadows, and they didn't know what was going on until a wrench went flying through the air—straight at Justin. The wrench collided with Justin's head, knocking him out so that the only thing holding Claire back was the kryptonite.

The first Ian turned around to find Bruce behind him. He tried to hit Bruce with the meteor rock in his hand, but Bruce blocked him quickly. Bruce then disarmed his opponent, and with three more hits, the first Ian was unconscious.

The other Ian hadn't been idle as his lookalike was attacked. He'd grabbed Claire and stood her up so her back was pressed against his front—her body serving as a shield between him and Bruce. Ian had wrapped the arm holding the kryptonite tightly around her waist, and he pulled out a knife with his other hand.

Just as Bruce knocked the first Ian to the floor, the other Ian put his knife up to Claire's throat.

"Back off!" Ian demanded. "She can bleed right now, so unless you want to watch me slit her throat, you're going to back the hell up."

Ian pressed his knife into her skin, cutting her to prove he wasn't bluffing. Bruce took a step back in response, raising his hands to show he was backing off.

Claire could see the look in Bruce's eyes, though. He wasn't giving up; he was glaring. She knew Bruce, and she could tell that he was calculating what move he was going to make against Ian.

But Claire wasn't going to just sit by and watch. With what limited strength she could muster, she drove her heel into Ian's foot, distracting him and making him cringe.

Bruce was there in an instant. He grabbed Ian's arm that was holding the knife and pulled it away from Claire. She could hear a distinct snapping of bone and a cry of pain from Ian before the knife fell to the floor. She then pushed against Ian, freeing herself from his other arm.

Claire stumbled to the ground—the kryptonite still affecting her. She turned back in time to see Bruce backhand Ian. That hit was enough to make Ian's nose bleed, but he was still conscious. Bruce remedied that with a swift headbutt. Ian slumped back, and Bruce released his grip on the other man's collar, letting him fall.

Bruce quickly looked back at Justin and the other Ian as if he were making sure they were still down. Once that was confirmed, he grabbed the meteor rocks from the floor and threw them out of the open barn door. Bruce then went back to Claire, kneeling down beside her.

"Are you all right?" he asked her.

"I'll live," Claire replied, feeling better now that the kryptonite was gone, but Bruce didn't seem to believe her. His hand went to the side of her neck, just below the cut there.

The wound sealed, though, as Bruce was watching, and he traced his thumb along the dried blood that remained. They were inches apart again, but this time she saw a dark, angered look on his face, rather than desire.

"Bruce," she began, but he interrupted her.

"You need to go inside, wake up your parents, and get ready to call the police," he said, before looking at Justin and the Ians. "I'll make sure that they can't get away."

Bruce then helped Claire to her feet. As she surveyed the scene before her—the unconscious bodies, the broken limbs, the charred beam that had fallen from the ceiling—she said, "The sheriff's going to love hearing the explanation for this."

"I'll make it easier," Bruce replied, stepping back and looking around the barn. "I won't be here when they arrive, and I'll clean this place up before I go. You can say that your father dealt with them."

"Bruce," Claire began, closing the distance between them and placing her hand upon his cheek, turning his head to face her. She could pick up on the adrenaline still coursing through his system—his increased heart rate and dilated pupils were clear signs of it.

She knew she should try to calm him down. The bad guys were beaten; he didn't need to have violent thoughts flooding his mind. All of a sudden, though, his lips were on hers, and she realized that it wasn't just anger causing his body's physical reactions. His hands went to her hips, pulling her closer to him.

His kiss was demanding, but he broke away from her quickly with concern apparent in his features.

"I shouldn't…" Bruce began. "Not right after something like this."

"Actually, I don't mind if you do," Claire replied, staying close to him. "You're pretty good at it—so good, in fact, it's helping me get over all the horrible things that have happened the last two days."

"You're not so bad yourself," he said, before placing one brief kiss on her lips. "And if I didn't have this filth to deal with—"

"But you do," Claire interrupted. "And I need to get everyone up so we can work out our cover story before we bring in the sheriff." She looked at the unconscious bodies once more, before turning back to Bruce and asking, "Now if I leave and let you handle this, are you going to break a few more wrists, or should we switch who does what job?"

"They tried to kill you," Bruce asserted.

"Yes they did, and you've already stopped them," Claire said. "You've won, and they've lost, so there's no need for any more violence. Besides, my dad might have a temper, but I don't know if he would cause injuries like that with his bare hands. We don't need to have any more things to explain."

They stared at each other for a moment, before Bruce finally spoke, "Fine. I won't teach them any further lessons, even if they deserve it. I'll do what I have to in order to keep Gaines unconscious so he can't use his abilities, but I won't do anything beyond that. Satisfied?"

"Yes," Claire replied, smiling at him. "And…thank you," she added.

"I didn't think we said that to each other," Bruce said.

"We didn't do a lot of things before tonight," Claire responded. "But it needs to be said. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you."

"And I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you," he said. "We have each other's backs."

"We do," Claire said, before pressing her lips to his one last time. She then backed away from him and headed for the door.

She wanted more time with him. Now that he knew what she was and he was willing to accept every side of her, she didn't see any point in denying her attraction to him.

But she was just going to have to wait for a better moment—hopefully one where escaped convicts weren't on the floor of her barn.

* * *

Bruce was back in Gotham in a matter of hours. He'd stayed in Smallville until after the sheriff's deputies had arrested Gaines and Randall—keeping a safe distance from the Kent farm so that his presence wouldn't be noticed. He'd wanted to be there in case anything went wrong, but he didn't want to create any complications for the Kents.

Thankfully, everything had gone smoothly, and there were two fewer madmen on the loose who might try to hurt Claire.

Bruce was still finding it difficult to believe everything that Claire had shared with him. The fact that she was an alien explained a number of mysteries about her, and Bruce could now understand her reluctance in revealing her secret.

But she'd let her walls down for him, trusting him with truths that she kept hidden from most of the world.

And then she'd kissed him. Bruce couldn't forget the feel of her lips on his, and he didn't think he'd ever want to.

After entering his bedroom at the penthouse, Bruce booted up his computer. He wanted to make sure that the three convicts they'd dealt with wouldn't be escaping prison again anytime soon. Bruce reviewed the schematics of the penitentiary they would be housed in and made sure the men would be adequately guarded. Bruce felt like he could've come up with a better plan for containing them, but at least the authorities were going to keep the three men apart. He'd keep an eye on the situation and intervene if needed, but for now, he'd let the officials' designs suffice.

Bruce then moved on to Claire's file.

His first instinct was to add information—on her weaknesses, on her origins, and on everything else he'd learned about Claire during the last few days.

And then he thought about the way she'd smiled at him and the warmth he'd felt when he touched her.

She'd trusted him, and Bruce wanted to be worthy of that trust. With that thought, he considered deleting the file on Claire.

But then he remembered what she could do.

Behind that smile of hers was more power than any human possessed, and could Bruce really accept one person having that much power—even if that person was Claire?

His mouse hovered over the delete button as he contemplated the issue. His choices were clear, but his decision was not.

As long as Claire was in control of a situation, Bruce believed she would use her abilities for the greater good. But the problem was that Bruce had no guarantee that Claire would always be in control. He'd just seen people exploit her weaknesses over the last two days, and Bruce knew that it could happen again.

He cared for her. He wanted to be open with her the same way she'd been open with him—but he couldn't deny his true nature.

Bruce wouldn't delete the file. Instead, he opened it and began logging the information he'd uncovered during the last few days.

No matter what was happening between himself and Claire, he was still the Batman.

* * *

"Our sources still don't have any leads," Lex's security advisor said. "I have contacts in Gotham's MCU. They're supposed to be trying to find the guy, but none of them seem to know who the Batman is."

"Maybe they just haven't been motivated properly," Lex suggested, his tone dark.

"There are fewer cops in Gotham willing to take bribes these days," the man replied. "Too many of them are afraid of the Batman."

"Perhaps you need to give them something else to be afraid of," Lex said. "I want to know who the Batman is and what his weaknesses are. And if you can't acquire that information for me, then perhaps I need to find someone else to do your job."

"I'm doing my job, sir," he argued. "Finding the Batman is just going to take more time."

Lex hated excuses, especially when it came to this situation. The Batman had broken into his home and clearly knew about his plans to kill Jonathan Kent. Lex needed to stop the masked menace before he caused any more damage.

"I may not have the Batman," his advisor continued. "But I do have something else you may be interested to know."

"Oh really? And what's that?" Lex asked.

"I keep an eye on you, Mr. Luthor," the man replied. "And I keep an ear out for anything that you might need to know. Do you remember Van McNulty?"

"I don't easily forget people who've tried to kill me."

"Well, he and two other convicts managed to escape prison three nights ago. They've been apprehended again since then, but I wanted you to know that I've contacted the authorities about it. They should've had better safeguards in place to prevent murderers from escaping, especially when one of those criminals had targeted a high profile individual like yourself in the past."

"So," Lex began, "someone who tried to murder me escaped prison, you failed to tell me about it for three days, and the only action you've taken was to give the authorities a stern lecture about tighter security? I'm waiting to be impressed by whatever it is you think you've accomplished."

"Well, sir, McNulty didn't go after you once he was free," the man explained. "That was why I thought it wasn't a priority for you to know about it. He just went after Claire Kent."

"He did what?" Lex asked with seriousness in his tone.

"McNulty went straight from the prison to Claire Kent's place," his advisor answered. "He tried to kill her, but he didn't succeed."

"She stopped him?"

"No, sir. The police report indicated that it was Bruce Wayne who stopped him."

"Bruce Wayne stopped McNulty from hurting Claire? What was he even doing at her apartment?" Lex questioned.

"The police didn't give a very specific reason for that, sir. It was late at night, so one can only assume—"

"No," Lex interrupted. "One doesn't have to assume anything."

Lex could feel his hand tightening into a fist. His nails were digging into his palm as he thought about Wayne at Claire's apartment. She wouldn't give Lex the time of day, but she was spending her nights with Wayne?

Lex wanted to hurt someone.

He didn't understand it. His mind went through the rationale behind it all. Lex could see that Claire was more than she appeared to be. She'd saved his life the day they'd met, and since then, she'd been at the center of multiple unexplained phenomena.

She was unique, and Lex had his suspicions about what secrets she might be hiding, but not everyone took notice of her. Claire did what she could to avoid drawing attention to herself, so Lex wondered what Bruce Wayne was doing in her life.

What would make Gotham's richest playboy want to spend his time with country girl Claire Kent—and what would a do-gooder like Claire see in Bruce Wayne?

Lex knew the basics on Wayne—everything he would usually know about a competitor in the business world, but maybe he'd missed something. He reviewed the facts. Wayne had just secured ownership of his family's company; he'd recently returned from years abroad with no real explanation as to what he'd done with his time; and he was a loner—an orphan with no close or lasting relations.

And it would take more than a tale of Wayne's sad, lonely childhood to win Claire over. Lex hadn't kept her attention with everything he'd told her about his own troubled youth. So what did Wayne have that Lex didn't? What had he done since returning to Gotham that would impress the elusive Claire Kent?

Really all the noteworthy things that had happened in Gotham of late had revolved around the Batman.

Suddenly, things became clear to Lex, like the pieces of a puzzle fitting together. And with that clarity came an idea—a way to possibly eliminate all of his problems.

"You said you have contacts in Gotham's police department?" Lex asked.

"Yes, sir, but like I said, they don't have anything to give us on the Batman."

"I don't want them to give us anything," Lex replied. "I want you to give them something."

"What's that, sir?"

"A viable suspect for the Batman…Bruce Wayne."


	21. Chapter 21

_**Author's Note:**_ _Here is the latest chapter in Claire and Bruce's story. Once again, I'm making changes to the Nolan films and the_ Smallville _series and borrowing elements from comics, cartoons, and other sources._

 _Thank you to everyone for your support for this story. I cannot express how much it means to me._

 _Now, as always, thank you for reading._

* * *

Claire knew Bruce was stubborn, but right now, she couldn't believe what a pig-headed idiot he was.

"You know how stupid that was, don't you?" Claire asked, as she deposited Bruce in his bedroom after speeding them both to his penthouse.

Claire and Bruce had been working a case in Gotham. The criminals they'd been tracking liked to use explosives, and from recent threats, it sounded like they were planning on using their bombs in a highly public event.

Bruce had found a lead on their base of operations, and Claire had volunteered to investigate the place with him.

Of course, the group hadn't been happy to have their base raided. Claire had disabled their obvious booby traps, but apparently she'd missed one. Bruce had realized that the leader of the group was arming the hidden bomb before she did, and he'd reacted foolishly as far as Claire was concerned.

The trap was near Claire, and instead of just letting her deal with the impact, Bruce had pushed Claire out of the way.

"I did what I had to," Bruce said.

"No, you didn't _have_ to do anything," Claire replied, taking off her mask and then her gloves. "I could've handled that explosion without being harmed. You didn't need to throw yourself in the way of that blast. You know how unbreakable I am."

"Just because you're unbreakable, that doesn't mean I could just sit back and let you face that," Bruce argued.

"Right, because it makes more sense for the fragile human to put himself in harm's way," Claire said.

"I knew what I was doing," Bruce replied, as he removed his cowl. He was trying to hide the pain he felt at the movement, but Claire could clearly see it. She'd used her x-ray vision and realized that Bruce had dislocated his shoulder during the explosion.

He'd managed to conceal the extent of his injury from Gordon and the other police officers who'd arrived at the scene to arrest the bombers, but he couldn't conceal it from her.

"Obviously, you didn't know what you were doing or else you wouldn't be in the shape you're in right now," Claire said, watching as Bruce tried to use his injured arm. "Now stop trying to hurt yourself more and at least let me help you."

"I'm fine," Bruce stated.

"Right, and I'm a normal human being," Claire replied. "Just stop arguing and take your armor off."

He looked at her closely at that statement, a slight smirk appearing on his lips. His expression made Claire realize what she'd just said.

They'd kissed a few days prior when he'd been staying at her farm, but their relationship hadn't moved beyond that point. Claire didn't mean anything by what she'd said. She just wanted to relocate his shoulder, and she couldn't do that with his armor still on.

"You know what I meant," Claire said, moving closer to him.

"Yes, I did," Bruce replied, unclasping his cape with his good arm.

Claire then began helping to remove his chest armor. She'd done it before when Bruce had been shot, but the circumstances had been so unlike the present moment. A few weeks ago, she could hardly stand Bruce, and he seemed to feel the same way about her. But now, there was something between them, and it felt different to be so close to him.

With a bit of work, they managed to take off the armor without too much more damage to Bruce's arm. As she looked at the dislocated shoulder, Claire caught sight of the scar on Bruce's back from where she'd sealed the bullet hole. Her fingers traced along the damaged tissue, and Claire couldn't stop the jolt of fear that coursed through her.

It would be so easy for her to lose him. Bruce was constantly throwing himself into dangerous situations, and she wondered how many more times he could possibly escape death.

Claire was staring at the scar on his back and the other remnants of past injuries she could see scattered across his skin, but then she realized that Bruce had turned his head and was now watching her. She needed to be helping him, not dwelling on what might happen.

"You should sit down," Claire said, and Bruce complied, settling in a nearby armless chair.

Claire assessed the injury, and she knew no matter how she approached it, this was going to hurt Bruce. She wondered if she should find some sort of medication to dull the pain before she relocated the shoulder, but Bruce had his own thoughts on the matter.

"Just get it over with," he said, stiffening the rest of his body in preparation for the pain he was about to endure.

Claire gripped his arm and was about to put his shoulder back into place when a thought entered her mind. She might not be able to ease Bruce's pain, but perhaps there was a way for her to distract him from it.

Claire put her lips on his, kissing him eagerly, and Bruce responded in kind. When she felt his tongue enter her mouth, she popped his shoulder back into the socket.

Bruce pulled back quickly, and Claire felt like she should apologize for not giving him fair warning about her intentions.

"I'm sorry," she said, as she took a step back. "I just figured if I could take your mind off what I was about to do, then maybe you wouldn't notice how much it hurt. It was a stupid idea—"

"But I was in pain," Bruce began, as he stood and moved closer to Claire, "and you thought you'd try to make me forget about that by kissing me?"

"Something like that," Claire replied, unmoving as she lost herself in the intense look in his eyes.

"And if I said that I'm still in pain?" he asked.

"Well, I guess I'd have to try to make you forget again," she answered.

At that, Bruce closed the short distance between them. His lips crashed upon hers and his hands grabbed ahold of her hips. Claire wrapped her arms around his neck, as Bruce guided her backwards until she was pressed against the wall.

They were moving too fast. Claire knew it, but she couldn't bring herself to stop. They hadn't known each other for that long, and Bruce had only just found out that she wasn't human.

And they hadn't even been on a normal date—unless their nightly efforts against criminals counted as that.

But then again, neither of them was normal. She was a super-powered alien, and Bruce was a billionaire vigilante. Why would they have a normal relationship?

Still, Claire had rushed into a relationship before, and it hadn't ended well. She had been younger and more foolish then, but she didn't want to relive the same mistake with Bruce. They needed to slow down.

She broke the kiss and said, "Bruce, we should—"

Her protest stopped as his lips moved to her neck. She could never receive a love bite—her skin didn't bruise the way a human's would. But she could still feel everything he was doing, and right now, Bruce was making her toes curl.

Claire was quickly losing the will to argue, but then she heard something.

"Bruce," she began, "Alfred's on his way up the stairs."

"I'll tell him to come back later," Bruce said before turning his attention to the other side of her neck.

She almost went along with what Bruce was saying, but then she picked up on Alfred's heartbeat.

"Something's wrong," Claire said. "Al's nervous about something."

Bruce pulled away from her at that, and his brow furrowed in concern.

"Master Bruce," Alfred called from down the hallway. "Are you back home yet, sir?"

The butler opened the door as soon as he reached Bruce's bedroom and walked inside. There was a surprised look on his face when he spotted Claire.

"Miss Kent?" Alfred said. "I didn't know you were here."

"We just wrapped up a case," Claire said, feeling like a teenager who'd just been caught by a parent after making out with a boy.

"What's wrong, Alfred?" Bruce asked, with a serious tone.

"The surveillance camera in the lobby downstairs," Alfred began. "It picked up on police officers who are on their way up here."

"Why?" Bruce asked, but Claire was already working on that. She let her hearing expand so that she could listen to what was going on at the base of the building.

There were four of them, and Claire could hear Lieutenant Gordon among them.

" _I just don't think you're right about this one, Bullock,_ " Gordon said as the four men entered the elevator.

" _You know it makes sense, Gordon,_ " the man named Bullock replied. " _And you're supposed to be tracking down every lead on the Batman. You can't ignore how much Wayne fits the bill for our city's masked whack job._ "

" _I doubt someone as rich as Bruce Wayne would spend his time running around town in a costume beating up bad guys,_ " Gordon replied. " _He probably hires someone to do everything for him—from brushing his teeth to cutting up his food. You really think some billionaire is going to hunt down criminals? He's probably not even up at this ungodly hour, let alone in the middle of the night when the Batman is usually at work._ "

" _But that's why we've got to question him now,_ " Bullock replied. " _He might not even be back from the bomber case yet. We might be able to catch him trying to sneak back home._ "

"They think you're the Batman," Claire told Bruce. "There are four of them, and Gordon's here with them. Gordon isn't sold on the theory, but another man—Bullock—is pretty convinced about it."

"Alfred, go downstairs to greet them," Bruce said. "I'll be down shortly."

"What are you going to do?" Claire asked, after Alfred had left.

"What I have to," Bruce replied, heading into his closet. Claire didn't watch him, but she could hear him changing out of the rest of his armor into pajama pants and a t-shirt. He came back into the room, putting on a robe. It was just past dawn, so his apparel was appropriate. "I'm prepared for this," he said.

"And what if they ask you for an alibi for last night?" Claire questioned.

He approached her and kissed her briefly before adding, "Don't worry."

"The cops are just here to question you about being Batman—what do I have to worry about?" Claire asked sarcastically. "But seriously, they know the Batman was at a crime scene last night—where are you going to say Bruce Wayne was?"

"Do you have a suggestion?"

Claire did have a suggestion. An idea was forming in her mind, and although it felt like a bad idea at first, it might help Bruce in facing the situation downstairs.

* * *

Gordon and the others were already inside the penthouse by the time Bruce reached the foyer. He recognized the two patrolmen—Richards and Burns, and the third man had to be Bullock. He was a hefty man with a grim face and square jaw, and he wore the plainclothes of a detective.

Alfred was standing with them, and Bruce could hear Gordon asking his butler to fetch him.

"I'm already here," Bruce replied in his somewhat carefree tone. "What can I do for you, gentlemen?"

"Mr. Wayne, I'm Lt. Jim Gordon," the detective said. "We have some questions for you."

"What about?" Bruce asked. "Because I really don't have time to waste this morning."

"You're going to have to make time, Mr. Wayne," Bullock said. "We need to know where you were last night."

"Where I was last night?" Bruce questioned, but he didn't have to provide answer. His answer was already on her way.

"Bruce! I can't seem to find my dress, so I'm borrowing some of your clothes," a voice called from the top of the staircase.

As she spoke, Claire turned so that she was now in full view of everyone in the foyer, but she acted as if she hadn't noticed that anyone else was in the penthouse other than the usual occupants. Her hands were busy braiding her hair behind her head, and her eyes were cast downward to watch the steps as she went down them. She was wearing her glasses, one of his button-up shirts, and a pair of his pants. She'd knotted the ends of his shirt at her midriff, and Bruce could see that she'd tightly tied one of his belts around her waist to hold the pants up.

Claire had come up with a good plan in Bruce's opinion. She'd only had her Blur suit and a spare pair of her glasses with her this morning, but she'd thought that she might be able to help Bruce with an alibi if she borrowed a few things.

Bruce had hesitated at first. He'd considered calling several women that he knew he could bribe into giving him alibis for the night, but Claire's offer was more tempting. He knew he could trust her to keep his secrets, and in honesty, he didn't want to have to use his rich, playboy persona any more than he had to. He'd rather spend his time with Claire than have some random bimbo on his arm.

Bruce knew it might be risky for her. If the police were able to identify him as the Batman, then Claire would be in danger for associating with him. But he couldn't say no to her—and he would protect her if things didn't go their way this morning.

Claire continued speaking as she walked, "I hope you don't mind, but I guess it doesn't matter if you do mind. I mean if you actually do mind, then you can probably afford to go out and buy the exact same clothes I'm borrowing, unless this is a billion dollar shirt or something. It's not, is it?"

At her last question, she reached the bottom of the stairs and looked up, seeming to realize for the first time that the police were there.

She froze where she stood, and a look of concern appeared on her face as she asked, "Bruce, what's going on? Is something wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, ma'am," Gordon answered. "We just had a few questions for Mr. Wayne."

Bruce started walking toward Claire as she asked, "Questions? What about?"

"We want to know where Mr. Wayne was last night," Bullock said gruffly.

"Last night?" Claire repeated. "Um…well…Bruce was with me last night. Why are you asking?"

"And who the hell are you?" Bullock asked, sounding angry and disappointed.

"What my colleague means," Gordon began, stepping in front of Bullock, "is that we're going to need to know your name, ma'am, for the record."

"Oh…of course," Claire replied. "I'm Claire Kent."

"We've answered your questions, detective," Bruce interrupted, as he stood beside Claire. "So could you answer our questions now and let us know why you're here this morning?"

"As you may know, Mr. Wayne," Gordon said, "the Major Crimes Unit of the Gotham Police Department has been tasked with hunting down and apprehending the vigilante known as Batman."

"And what does that have to do with where Bruce was last night?" Claire asked.

"The Batman was at a crime scene last night, and we have reason to believe that Wayne here is the creep behind the mask," Bullock replied.

"But I just told you that Bruce was here with me last night," Claire said.

"I'm betting the Batman could get the slip on you," Bullock said. "Probably snuck out once you were asleep and left you as his alibi. Wayne's got the means and motive to be the vigilante."

"So you think Bruce is Batman just because he has money?" Claire asked, incredulously.

"There's that," Bullock said. "And the sudden appearance of the Batman right after Wayne returned to Gotham, a string of no-shows by Wayne at big events—every time when the Batman was reportedly spotted at a crime scene, and a number of other strange coincidences."

"What nights do you need alibis for?" Claire asked.

"Claire—" Bruce attempted to interrupt.

"Bruce, I'm not going to let you be accused of being a criminal just to keep our relationship quiet," Claire said.

It was part of her plan. Claire had offered to stretch the truth regarding their relationship in order to cover for him. In reality, things might have changed between them only a few days ago, but they'd decided to tell the police that they'd been seeing each other for some time now. If the detectives needed to know where Bruce had been on a particular night, Claire intended to say that he'd been with her.

They'd also come up with decent excuses for why they would've kept their relationship private. One reason was the upcoming election. Bruce was a contributor to her father's campaign—if he were also dating the candidate's daughter, then that could create unwanted gossip.

And that was another reason they'd planned to give for the secrecy of their relationship—Bruce didn't want Claire to have to deal with tabloid reporters, chasing her down for some sort of trashy story.

"So do you need any further information, detectives?" Bruce asked, after he and Claire had shared their stories with the police. His arm had made its way around Claire's waist as they'd spoken, and he now had her pressed tightly against his side.

"Well, Mr. Wayne," Gordon began, "we'll have to follow up on the details you've given us this morning, but if everything checks out as you said, I don't see any reason why we can't close this case up. You and Miss Kent seem to have given us enough backup to support that you aren't Gotham's vigilante."

Gordon then offered his hand to Bruce, before saying, "I apologize for any trouble that we may have caused you this morning, Mr. Wayne."

"I understand," Bruce replied, shaking the Lieutenant's hand. "You were just doing your job."

"Thank you for seeing it that way," Gordon said.

Bruce was tempted to tell Gordon that he didn't have to thank him, but he wasn't about to give the detective any reason to suspect him of being the Batman again. And saying something that the Batman had said to Gordon might be too suspicious. Instead, Bruce merely said, "You're welcome. Now, if there's nothing further you need, my butler will show you out."

At that, Alfred stepped forward and pointed their guests back toward the elevator.

As the detectives and patrolmen headed for the door, Bruce turned to Claire.

"Nice cover story," he said to her quietly, but Claire didn't seem to agree. She had a concerned look on her face. "What is it?" he asked.

"I hope it was worth it," Claire whispered. She sounded worried, and Bruce suddenly felt a need to apologize for dragging her into his problems.

"Claire, I'm sorry—"

"No, Bruce," Claire interrupted him, still in a hushed tone. "I'm sorry. It was a stupid excuse I came up with, and I'm not even sure if it worked."

"I believed it," Bruce replied.

"Well, the two patrolmen are debating it," Claire began. "One of them thinks you must have a fetish for the sexy librarian type, and the other thinks it's something else. He bets I'm willing to—nevermind. I can't repeat that."

Bruce hated that she was going through this because of him. He didn't want her to have to listen to that sort of talk, and it bothered him that anyone would say something offensive about her—especially when he knew what an amazing person she was.

"Gordon's asking Bullock where he got his tip," Claire started up once more. "He seems kind of upset about it. Bullock says it doesn't matter; his source was reliable. Gordon doesn't think so—he's angry. He says that their office shouldn't be getting tangled up in some political gossip story. They have real work to be doing. Gordon thinks the tip didn't have anything to do with the Batman; he thinks it was just someone wanting to bring our relationship to light and cause trouble for my father's election. Bullock's still not convinced."

"I think I might have a way to help convince him," Bruce said, placing his hand on Claire's cheek and turning her to face him.

He kissed her then—not as desperately or passionately as he had earlier that morning, but slowly and purposefully.

Claire pulled back from him after a minute, a small smile on her face. "Bullock still thinks we're lying, but Gordon's completely on our side now," Claire said. "He thinks that maybe Gotham's playboy has changed, and there's no law against that."

"A farm girl helped reform my reckless ways," Bruce replied.

Bruce could hear the elevator doors open behind him. The detectives and patrolmen just had to board and then this would be over.

"Gordon's still not in the elevator, but all of the others are," Claire said. "Gordon's going back to Alfred. He wants to confirm that we said I'm from Metropolis, and Al said yes. Gordon's saying it's funny because I'm the second person he's run into today from that city. But now he's saying that doesn't matter; he just wants Al to tell you not to worry. If our stories check out, then this accusation about you being Batman will go away. And he's not interested in feeding gossipmongers. He'll make sure that his men don't say anything to anyone about us. And now he's saying his goodbyes and heading into the elevator."

Bruce knew what Gordon was referring to when he mentioned the people he'd run into from Metropolis. Out of all the officers working on the bomber case this morning, only Gordon knew that the Blur had shown up to assist the Batman. Bruce didn't know why Gordon would bring it up to Alfred, though. Did the detective know the truth about their alternate identities? If so, why would he say it didn't matter?

Bruce was pulled from his thoughts, though, when Claire spoke up.

"I guess I've just created a whole new mess for us, haven't I?" she said.

"What do you mean?" Bruce asked.

"Despite what Gordon said," Claire began, "we don't know if he'll be able to keep his men from talking. One of them might tell the wrong person—or might even sell the story to the tabloids—and then what? Bruce Wayne would then be linked to Claire Kent in Gotham City's records and maybe in the media soon too."

"I'm not seeing a problem here," Bruce replied. He didn't mind the thought of changing his public identity to include Claire.

"What happens if people ever find out that Claire Kent is the Blur?" Claire asked, sounding concerned. "They'll look up anyone I've ever associated with, and someone will find out about today and that I have some connection to Bruce Wayne. And then I'm sure they'd start prying into your life."

"And the reverse is true," Bruce stated, realizing Claire shared his fear. He didn't want their relationship to put her in danger, and apparently she didn't want him in danger because of it either. "But that's why we'll take precautions. I'll keep a closer eye on our cities' police departments and make sure they don't acquire any additional evidence that brings our identities into question. And I'll look into Bullock's source to find out who thinks I'm Batman and why."

"But there's more than just that," Claire noted.

"I'll deal with the gossip issue as well," Bruce said, knowing Claire's current concern. He knew that Claire never wanted to cause any trouble for her father, and if she became part of a publicized scandal, then that might cause trouble for Jonathan Kent—and his political campaign.

"How are you going to fix that?" Claire asked.

"By getting ahead of the story," Bruce answered. He knew how to spin a tale, and if he could provide the right version of their romance to the right people, then this might even work in his and the Kents' favor. "It'll mean going public as a couple and bending the truth a little. Are you okay with that?"

"I think I've already proved that I am," Claire replied, looking down at the outfit she'd put together from his clothes. "But are you? If you go along with this, aren't you going to miss being the womanizing Bruce Wayne?"

"No," Bruce said seriously, before wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling Claire flush against him. His lips were on hers instantly, kissing her without hesitation, as Bruce seemed to forget they weren't alone.

He remembered, though, the moment Alfred coughed and reminded them of his presence. Disappointingly, Claire pulled away at the sound.

"Forgive the interruption, sir," Alfred began, "but I wanted to let you know that the police are gone. And they don't seem to be leaving anyone at the building to be keeping watch on you."

"But someone might be watching," Claire said. "Whoever Bullock's source was had to suspect you for some reason."

"Well, I'll be sure to leave less of a trail going forward," Bruce replied. "Anything else, Alfred?"

"No, Master Bruce, but I would be happy to prepare you and Miss Kent some breakfast now that our surprise guests have gone."

"Actually, Al," Claire began, "what I could really use is a cab."

"What?" Bruce questioned, not understanding Claire's request.

"Bruce, someone already suspects you of being the Batman," Claire replied. "I think they would be more suspicious of you if they never saw your supposed girlfriend leave here using normal means of transportation."

"Why do you need to leave right now?" Bruce asked.

"Because it's a weekday, and for a normal person, that means going to work," Claire answered. "And if I'm going to make it to work anywhere close to on-time using just cars and trains, I need to leave now."

"You can take one of my cars," Bruce offered, knowing the speeds that most of his vehicles could achieve.

"I'm not going to take one of your fancy sports cars all the way back to Metropolis, even if you are planning on telling the world we're together," Claire replied. "Public transportation will work just fine…although I could use money for the cab fare and the train ticket. I'll pay you back, but right now my wallet is in a different zip code."

"You don't need to pay me back," Bruce said, after retrieving his wallet and offering Claire several hundred-dollar bills.

"That's too much," Claire said.

"Well, that's too bad then," Bruce replied. "Because if you want to leave here in a timely fashion, then you're going to have to take all of it."

"Fine," Claire said, as she took the cash from him. "But I'll be sending it all back anyway."

"We'll see about that," Bruce said, watching Claire head for the exit.

"I'm sure we will," Claire replied before saying goodbye to Alfred. She was soon in the elevator, and then with a brief wave, she was gone, leaving Bruce alone with his butler.

"Your timing was impeccable today, Alfred," Bruce commented sarcastically to his old friend. Twice today Claire had been in his arms, and twice Alfred had interrupted them. A part of Bruce doubted that it was coincidence.

"I'm just trying to look out for what's best, sir," Alfred replied.

"Look out for what's best?" Bruce questioned. "You don't think Claire's what's best for me? She's saved my life. She understands me. I don't know what more I could ask for in a woman."

"You're right on that count, Master Bruce," Alfred said. "But she could ask for more."

Bruce's brow furrowed at Alfred's puzzling answer, and his butler seemed to realize that he needed to provide a more detailed explanation.

"I saw how you two were this morning," Alfred began. "And I know that you're both different from the rest of the world, but have you even taken her to dinner yet? Have you done anything a normal person would do, or are you just diving in headfirst and hoping that neither of you drown?"

Bruce realized then that Alfred was right. They weren't normal, but that didn't mean they had to skip over every aspect of a normal relationship.

And besides, they were going public now, and Bruce could think of a few events that he wouldn't mind attending so long as he had Claire by his side.

* * *

Despite her best efforts, Claire was still late to work. No matter how much time she'd been forced to waste on public transportation, she wasn't going to show up to work wearing Bruce's clothes. Instead, she'd gone to her apartment and cleaned up first. Thankfully, though, her editor hadn't seemed to notice her absence by the time she arrived at the Planet.

"It was only a half-hour," Chloe reassured her. "If you'd been gone the whole morning, then the Chief might've picked up on it, but I think you'll be okay today."

Claire was glad to hear it. It had felt like she was moving at a snail's pace when she'd taken the train back to Metropolis this morning.

"So," Chloe began quietly, "was it the bombers that delayed you in Gotham or was it Bruce?"

Her friend had a knowing grin upon her face as she asked the question. Claire had told Chloe that something was now going on between her and Bruce, but Chloe was always desperate for more details.

"It was Bruce…and the Gotham Police Department," Claire replied in a hushed tone.

"What? Did the police have questions for you about the bomber case?" Chloe asked.

"No," Claire answered. "They had questions about whether Bruce was the Batman."

Claire then recounted the events of the morning to her friend.

"So you and Bruce are going public now after what—two make-out sessions?" Chloe asked.

"Something like that," Claire replied. She couldn't help the worry that she felt at the thought. Her earlier concerns returned regarding her and Bruce being linked—and what might happen to the other if one of their secret identities was revealed. But now other troubles entered her mind.

"You know, I think most people would be happy to be dating a billionaire," Chloe said, clearly noticing that Claire was distraught.

"I'm just worried it's too fast," Claire said. "It feels so right in the moment, but…"

"But what?" Chloe asked.

"But I don't want another repeat of Arthur," Claire answered. Arthur Curry—as Claire had known him—was the last person with whom she'd had a whirlwind relationship. He was tall, dark, and handsome; he possessed special abilities; and he understood her need to be vigilante—in fact, he'd even encouraged it. But then things had fallen apart between them.

"I highly doubt that Bruce Wayne is going to ask you to help him blow up a factory with people still inside just to get the world to pay more attention to marine life," Chloe said, summarizing the subject that had ended her and Arthur's relationship.

"Maybe not," Claire replied. "But with our lives the way they are, who knows what might go wrong in our relationship."

"So you're just waiting for something to go wrong—or for Bruce to do something wrong so then you can end it?"

"No," Claire said. "I just…"

"Don't want to get your hopes up?" Chloe asked. "Because there's no way for this to go right and for Bruce to actually be a good boyfriend?"

"Claire Kent?" a voice said from across the room.

Claire turned to see a tall, somewhat lanky, young man with brown hair and green eyes, trying to balance a thin package in one hand and a vase of red roses in the other.

"Yep, definitely no way he could be a good boyfriend," Chloe said, eyeing the flowers.

"I'm Claire Kent," she finally replied, and the man moved toward her, stumbling just before he reached her desk. Claire reacted on instinct, catching the vase and steadying the young man by grabbing his elbow. She hadn't moved at full speed, but it was still quicker than she liked to move in public.

"Nice reflexes," the man commented.

"Thanks," Claire replied. "Now what can I do for you?"

"Well, you already have the flowers, and this is yours too," he said, handing her the package. Claire set both items down on her desk and returned to her seat.

"You don't look like our regular delivery guy," Chloe noted, and Claire realized that the man didn't look familiar, and his clothes were more suitable for an office environment rather than making deliveries.

"Yeah, you're right," the man replied, running his fingers through his hair somewhat nervously. "I'm not the delivery guy. I ran into him on the way down here. He said he was having trouble finding Claire Kent, so I offered to take a look. I was headed this way anyway."

"And what brings you to the bullpen at the Planet, Mister…?" Chloe asked.

"Allen," the young man answered. "Barry Allen. I'm here looking for Louis Lane."

"Louis is out working on a story, but he should be back in the next hour or so," Chloe said. "Is there something specific you need from him, or could we help you?"

"I was hoping to talk to him about the Blur," Barry replied. "He writes most the stories about him."

"He does," Chloe said. "But we help out with those articles too. I'm Chloe Sullivan—"

"Chloe Sullivan?" Barry repeated. "You wrote an article about weapons smuggling not too long ago, and the Blur showed up and saved you."

"Yes, that was me," Chloe replied. "Now why are you so interested in the Blur? Are you a reporter?"

"No, I'm a forensic scientist actually," Barry answered, although Claire had trouble believing it. He looked too young for that sort of job. "I just started working for Central City's police department, and they have me reviewing a cold case as a sort of initiation ceremony."

"What's the case?" Claire asked. She couldn't help but be curious why someone would be asking about a cold case from Central City and the Blur.

"It was a homicide from back in 2000," Barry began. "A witness to the crime saw what he described as a yellow blur at the scene."

"In 2000?" Chloe questioned. "Our city's Blur hasn't been around that long."

"Or at least the Blur hasn't been in the spotlight for that long," Barry replied. "Who knows how long he's had his abilities—or how he got his abilities? If I can figure out what gave him his speed, I might also be able to figure out how the yellow blur did what he did in 2000, or if the two blurs are somehow related."

"Well, good luck with that, Mr. Allen," Claire said dismissively. What Barry had just said bothered her. She was the Blur, and she knew she hadn't been involved in a murder in Central City back when she was a kid, but she wondered what had really happened there. She wanted to talk to Chloe about it, but she couldn't do that with Barry still hovering. "Louis is down at City Hall. If you head down there now, you should be able to catch him."

"Thanks," Barry replied. "To both of you." He gave a quick nod to them and then headed to the exit.

"Do you know anything about a yellow speedster?" Chloe asked.

"No," Claire replied. "And I don't know of any Kryptonians that might have been involved. My cousin wasn't out of his ship yet, and the Zoners hadn't escaped the Phantom Zone back in 2000. Now I'm just wondering if there could have been some other alien involved."

"Or if there's a way for a human to get super-speed," Chloe suggested.

Either option seemed possible. Claire would need to do more research, though, to find out what really happened, but Chloe wasn't going to let her work on the case just yet.

"So what else did Bruce send you other than the flowers?" her friend asked.

Claire opened the package and pulled out a stack of documents topped by a short, typed note.

" _To replace the dress. –B,_ " the note read. Claire flipped through the rest of the paperwork and realized that it was for a bank account that had just been opened in her name. There was a debit card on the last page along with an account balance that showed $1,000,000.

"What is it?" Chloe asked, and Claire realized she hadn't responded. She'd been too shocked to speak.

"Bruce opened a bank account for me," Claire replied. Chloe's jaw dropped in surprise when Claire told her the balance.

"I can't keep it," Claire said. Her mind went back to the day after she'd first met Lex. She'd come home to find a truck from Lex in her driveway—a gift for saving his life. Her father had made her return it, and it had taken time, but Claire eventually understood why.

"This isn't Bruce trying to thank you, and you not wanting any form of gratitude for doing what you do," Chloe argued. "This is you dating a billionaire. Of course he's giving you extravagant gifts—but at least it's a smart gift too."

"How is this a smart gift?"

"It's a bank account, rather than a credit card," Chloe explained. "All of your transactions would be tracked if they're just done on a card, but with an account, you have access to cash. You can make a withdrawal and buy whatever the Blur needs without leaving a trail."

"Bruce shouldn't be funding the Blur's needs," Claire replied. "And I shouldn't be accepting something like this."

"You agreed to go public with the relationship, didn't you?" Chloe countered. "Well, this is just part of that. Stop trying to make up excuses and just go with it."

"What cases have I been neglecting since I started splitting my time between here and Gotham?" Claire asked.

The dramatic shift in the conversation caught Chloe off guard for a moment, but she recovered quickly.

"There is one case that I think you might need to look into," Chloe began. "After a report I received this morning, I think we might be dealing with a serial killer."

Chloe then explained that three women had been murdered over the last two days. The murders had occurred in different parts of town, so different police precincts were looking into them. In her own investigation, though, Chloe noticed that all three women had been killed after being seen alone at bars, and that they had all died from an odd hormone overdose.

"And all three victims had similar appearances," Chloe added. "Relatively tall, dark hair, and blue eyes."

"So I already look the part," Claire said.

"What do you mean?" Chloe asked.

"I mean that I'm going to find out whether you're right," Claire said. "Whether I can go along with this public relationship with Bruce and still do a better job being the Blur. I'll use his money to help with cases the Blur is working on, and it sounds like for this one, I might even be able to follow Bruce's instructions."

"What instructions?"

Claire tossed the note over to Chloe's desk, and said, "If I'm going to track down this serial killer, I'm going to need a way to attract his attention. I think a new dress might help me with that."


	22. Chapter 22

_**Author's Note:**_ _Thank you to everyone who has followed, favorited, and reviewed this story. I truly appreciate your feedback._

 _There were a few questions in recent reviews, so I'll try to answer them. To emily88034, the Flash in this story will be the Barry Allen from the current Arrow-Flash universe, rather than the Bart Allen from_ Smallville _. Regarding orion0905's comment on who's faster, you'll have to wait and see. And to the guest that asked about Wonder Woman, I'm considering including her, but it would be further down the road._

 _Lastly, the main storyline featured in this chapter and the next is based on something similar that occurred in_ Smallville _and_ Superman: The Animated Series _—however, I'm putting my own twist on it. This arc will also include a plot point—mentioned at the end of this chapter—that has been asked about in reviews. I hope you enjoy!_

 _Now, as always, thank you for reading!_

* * *

When Bruce had suggested that Claire buy a dress, he hadn't planned on her using it to lure in a serial killer.

His note was really just meant to tie back to their cover story. The police had heard Claire say that she couldn't find her dress in his penthouse, so it made sense that she might feel the need to replace it. And any dutiful—and insanely rich—boyfriend would have provided her with the means to do just that.

But Claire apparently wasn't one to just go out and buy a dress for fun, or even to wear on a date with him. No, she wanted a dress that would make her stand out to serial killer.

And she hadn't even told him about it.

Bruce had invited her to dinner shortly after he knew she'd received his package, but she'd texted him back indicating that she couldn't. Her message had read, " _Working tonight. Rain check?_ "

And Bruce had accepted her response. He'd put her through a good bit of trouble that morning, so of course he would give her space. But he became concerned when he'd received only short, cryptic messages the following day as well.

If Claire wasn't going to answer him directly, Bruce decided to turn to another source.

He'd made sure that Chloe had received a replacement phone after her last one was destroyed during her hostage situation at the docks. Bruce had called Chloe on that line after two days of near silence from Claire.

Chloe had explained the situation to him. There was a serial killer on the loose in Metropolis, and Claire was doing what she could to track him down. Bruce could understand that, but he wasn't comforted when Chloe sent him a copy of the case file. All of the killer's victims had looked frighteningly like Claire.

Chloe had said that she'd noticed the similarities as well, but that Claire wasn't worried about it. In fact, Claire had told Chloe that it was a good thing. It would help them in catching the guy.

Bruce wasn't so sure.

From the case file, it was clear that the killer was looking for a specific type of woman, and Bruce didn't know how the man would react if Claire ever did manage to track him down. The guy was using some sort of chemical on his victims, but Bruce couldn't guess how that substance might affect Claire if she ever came into contact with it.

The previous victims had died from exposure to it—but an alien? The case file hadn't provided Bruce with anything solid to go on when it came to Claire's possible reaction to the chemical. And that left Bruce concerned.

She was putting herself out there, trying to draw this guy's attention without a real care for how his drug might impact her, and Bruce couldn't stand for it.

Once he'd gone through the case file and reviewed Chloe and Claire's full efforts to track down the guy, Bruce had decided to take action. He'd packed up everything he might need and driven to Metropolis—without telling Claire.

Currently, he was on a rooftop across the street from a top-floor club where Claire believed the killer might strike next. The club had several floor-to-ceiling windows and a balcony on the side that Bruce was facing. He was at a good vantage point that allowed him to see all of the comings and goings within the establishment, and the shape of the rooftop access point beside him provided enough cover so that no one in the club could see him.

Bruce wasn't dressed in his batsuit this evening. Instead, he wore a black suit with a slate gray button-up shirt in case Claire needed backup tonight. An appearance by Bruce Wayne in a Metropolis club could be more easily explained than an appearance by the Batman.

Bruce hadn't acquired this location from Claire, but instead, he'd managed to talk Chloe into giving the name of the place to him.

It had taken work, but Bruce had convinced Chloe to see the danger that Claire would be in if she pursued a murderer using a mysterious substance on his victims. Chloe hadn't agreed with Bruce's decision not to tell Claire about how he'd intended to involve himself in the case, but that didn't matter. If Bruce could move quickly enough, then perhaps he could find a way to help Claire stop the murderer before she could argue.

But apparently, Bruce had been wrong about that too.

He hadn't been on the roof for more than five minutes before his phone started to ring.

"Hello, Claire," he said as he answered the call.

" _Hello, Bruce,_ " Claire replied. " _What brings you to Metropolis this evening?_ "

"What makes you think I'm in Metropolis tonight?" Bruce questioned.

" _I can hear your heartbeat on the roof next door,_ " Claire said, and Bruce could hear a pinging noise behind her voice. It sounded like she was travelling in an elevator. Soon enough the doors opened across the way, and Bruce could see Claire enter the club using a scope he'd brought with him.

When he first caught sight of her, Bruce thought Claire might just be trying to torture him. She hadn't been in contact with him for days, and now she was wearing a dress that was killing him. It was a black silk fabric that formed a low v-neck along her chest and then wrapped tightly around her torso. The fabric ended at mid-thigh, revealing long legs, made even longer by black stilettos. Her hair was down, and her glasses were off, and Bruce hated that he was a building away from her right now.

" _Are you okay?_ " Claire asked him.

"Fine," Bruce replied, his voice rough. "Why?"

" _It just sounded like your heart rate changed there for a second,_ " she answered.

"Go out on the balcony," Bruce demanded. It was an unseasonably cold night in Metropolis, so the club's balcony was currently unoccupied. Bruce wasn't bothered by the cold, because his training had taught him to ignore the elements when he had a task to focus on. And he knew Claire wouldn't be disturbed by the frigid temperatures—her Kryptonian body could handle it.

" _Why would I do that?_ " Claire asked quietly. " _I'm trying to get this guy to notice me—how's he going to do that from the balcony?_ "

"The guy you're after has been targeting women who've been on their own," Bruce replied. "The best place for you to be alone in that club tonight is on the balcony. And that's also the best place for us to carry on this conversation without you needing to be on the phone. Seeing you talking on your phone might be another deterrent for this guy."

Bruce watched as Claire hit a button on her phone to end the call. She then headed for the glass door that led to the balcony. As she made her way outside, Bruce launched a listening device that connected with one of the club's windows. Bruce would be able to hear everything that she said through it.

"Can you still hear me?" Bruce asked into the open air.

" _I could hear you when I was in the elevator. Now that I'm outside, it sounds like you're standing right next to me,_ " Claire said, as she crossed her arms and leaned her elbows against the railing.

"I wish I was," Bruce said under his breath.

" _What was that?_ " Claire asked.

"Nothing," Bruce said. "Now do we know anything about this guy's appearance?" he asked, knowing that the case file had been lacking on that subject.

" _Nothing confirmed,_ " Claire replied. " _But two bartenders from these places have said they remember seeing a tall, built guy with red hair checking out the victims. They don't remember seeing the victims leave with him, but there was just something off about him that made him stand out. They both had this feeling—like the guy was bad news._ "

"Instinct can be a powerful thing," Bruce said. "More people should listen to it."

" _It might be something more than that,_ " Claire commented. " _The way these women have died—it makes me wonder. There's been no sign that they ingested something, and no sign of puncture marks to suggest that they were injected with something, but somehow something got into their systems._ "

"You have a theory?" Bruce asked.

" _I've met people that could influence the body chemistry of those around them,_ " Claire answered. " _Not like this exactly, but it wouldn't surprise me if someone with abilities is behind this._ "

"Do you think they'll be able to affect you?"

" _I don't know,_ " Claire replied. " _It's hit or miss sometimes._ "

Bruce didn't like the uncertainty in her voice. He was tempted to use the grappling hook he'd brought with him to join her on the balcony now, but he restrained himself. Bruce knew that Claire was trying to stop a murderer, and to do that, he needed to keep his distance.

But that didn't mean he couldn't try to provide some sort of reassurance to her.

"So once you catch this guy," Bruce began, "do you have plans for dinner tonight?"

Claire smiled at that. " _No, Bruce, I don't have plans for dinner tonight._ "

"Name any restaurant you want to go to, and I can get us a table," Bruce said.

" _I bet you can,_ " Claire replied. " _But I just don't know when we're going to catch this guy…or if we're going to catch him._ "

"You will," Bruce said.

" _How do you know that?_ "

"Because I know you and what you're capable of," Bruce answered.

Claire was quiet for a moment, and Bruce wondered if something was wrong.

"Claire?" he said.

" _I think something's going on,_ " Claire said, as her brows furrowed. " _I feel like something's happening…I….I smell something._ "

"What?" Bruce questioned, not understanding her.

The elevator doors opened, and Bruce could see a man walking into the club matching the description that Claire had provided. He wore a light gray suit and a black shirt, and Bruce could see that he had long, red hair that nearly reached his shoulders.

"Claire, I think I see our target," Bruce said.

But it seemed like their target had also seen Claire. The man was on his way to her almost immediately, and she seemed frozen to the spot watching him.

"Claire, talk to me," Bruce begged, wanting to know what was going on.

The man soon joined Claire on the balcony, staring at her as he said, " _You are the one I've been searching for._ "

" _Who are you?_ " Claire asked, in a breathy voice that Bruce didn't like her using around this man.

" _I am Maximus,_ " he began, stepping closer to Claire as he spoke, " _ruler of Almerac, and I have searched the universe for a woman worthy to rule beside me._ "

The use of the word _universe_ bothered Bruce. He'd never heard of a country called Almerac, so he wondered if it might be another planet. And if that were the case, was Maximus here looking for a Kryptonian?

" _You've been killing women,_ " Claire said.

" _I have been testing their worth,_ " Maximus clarified. " _And it's true—many have failed. But I believe you have to be the one I have been looking for—the last daughter of Krypton._ "

" _How do you know about Krypton?_ " Claire asked.

" _I know much,_ " Maximus replied. " _And I desire to know more._ " He now stood directly in front of Claire, and his hand moved to rest on her cheek.

Bruce didn't understand it. Claire wasn't putting up a fight against this guy. She knew he was the murderer, but she wasn't trying to subdue Maximus, nor was she calling in backup.

At this point, though, Bruce didn't care. Maximus was entirely too close to her, and Claire seemed enthralled by the creep. Bruce didn't know what Maximus was doing; all he knew for certain was that he wanted Claire as far away from the guy as possible.

By the time Bruce had aimed his grappling gun, Maximus had already closed the distance and was kissing Claire, and Bruce was seeing red. He made the shot without hesitation and was across the gap in an instant.

Bruce landed on the balcony, and the scene before him had grown worse. He could see Claire's arms around Maximus' neck and her leg wrapped around the man's thigh.

"Get your damn hands off her!" Bruce shouted.

Maximus didn't seem to pay him any attention, but Claire pulled back. She shook her head, as if she were waking from a fog. She pushed away from Maximus, and Bruce took advantage of the opening. He grabbed Maximus by the arm, turning the man before punching him square in the jaw.

Maximus stumbled backwards with a look of shock on his face.

"What is this?" Maximus demanded. "How dare you interfere, lower being!"

Maximus moved toward him, looking like he wanted a fight, but Claire stepped in between them.

"What are you doing?" Maximus asked her. "You belong to me. You shouldn't be able to stand against me."

"I don't belong to you," Claire asserted. "And I'm going to stop you before you hurt anyone else."

"I have you—I don't need to bother myself with any more of these peons," Maximus said.

"You don't have me," Claire said.

Maximus looked from Claire to Bruce before saying, "We shall see about that."

Then in a rush of wind, he was gone. Bruce's arm instinctively wrapped around Claire, pulling her against him to make sure she didn't disappear as well. He didn't want her anywhere near that guy again, and he hated that Maximus seemed to think that Claire belonged to him.

Claire then turned toward him and pressed her head against Bruce's collar for a moment. Something was clearly wrong. Bruce didn't know what Maximus had done to her, but Bruce would do whatever he could to make sure she recovered.

As he held her, Bruce heard a noise. It sounded almost as if Claire were sniffing his neck.

"Claire?" Bruce said, attempting to gain some response from her.

"Bruce," she whispered before looking up at him. Bruce could see that her eyes were dilated. He knew that Maximus had increased hormones in his victims to dangerous levels, and he wondered if Claire was experiencing something similar. Whatever was going on, he just hoped that she would be able to handle it.

One thing that he knew would help would be to leave this place. He didn't want to be on this open balcony any longer.

"Let's get you home," Bruce said, keeping one arm around her waist and using the other to open the door.

Claire leaned on him heavily, but Bruce managed to lead them to his car. Once they were inside, Claire spoke up, "We need to go to John's apartment. Take 9th to Park and stay on that until 23rd."

"Claire—" Bruce began, trying to argue.

"Stop!" Claire interrupted, sounding as if she were in pain. "Stop saying my name, just drive the car and don't talk. And unless you have access to some database that gives you information on extraterrestrial visitors from Almerac, don't argue about pulling John into this."

Bruce was quiet from that point forward. He put the car in drive and sped off in the direction Claire had given.

* * *

By the time they reached John's apartment, Bruce could tell that Claire was still feeling the effects of her encounter with Maximus. She wasn't leaning on him any longer, but she was still agitated. Claire quickly rapped on the door in front of them as if it couldn't open fast enough.

"Claire?" John said as he opened the door and saw his uninvited guests. "And Mr. Wayne? What brings you both here tonight?"

"We just ran into someone from a place called Almerac," Claire replied.

"Come inside," John said, his tone serious.

Bruce followed Claire into the small and sparse apartment. He found a spot to stand in and watched as Claire paced back and forth across the living room.

"What happened?" John asked.

"I went after a serial killer who's been murdering women around town," Claire replied. "The way they were dying—I thought someone with abilities had to be behind it. But no, it turns out this guy was an alien named Maximus."

"Maximus?" John questioned. "He was just a prince the last time I heard anything about Almerac."

"Well, apparently he's the ruler now," Claire said sarcastically. Her voice became more somber as she added, "And he knew I was from Krypton. How did he know that?"

"I'm not certain," John replied. "It was never advertised that one of the last survivors of Krypton ended up on Earth, but there have been some who've found out where you landed."

Claire didn't seem happy about that, and Bruce could understand why. Knowing that there was possibly a whole universe of threats just waiting for the right moment to strike wasn't comforting. But there was no point dwelling on that now—they needed to deal with the matter at hand.

"So what do we do about Maximus?" Bruce asked. "Is there some way we can stop him or send him back to Almerac?"

"First thing's first," John replied, moving toward Claire. She stopped pacing as soon as he was in front of her. John checked Claire's eyes and grabbed her wrist, holding it as if he were checking her pulse. "Are you okay?" John asked her.

"I'm fine," Claire replied.

"Did Maximus go near you?"

"Yes," Claire admitted. "He's stronger and faster than a human, but I think I still have the edge on him. I was able to pull away from him."

"He's looking for a mate, isn't he?" John asked.

"How did you know that?" Bruce demanded.

"The royal family of Almerac has been experimenting with their genetics for centuries now," John replied. "To the point that they can no longer mate with anyone else on their planet. They have to look for stronger species from other worlds to reproduce."

"And now he's found Claire," Bruce said angrily.

"How did you manage to escape from him?" John asked Claire.

"I told you," Claire began, "I'm stronger than he is."

"Still, as part of their genetic modifications, the Almerac royal family improved upon their ability to attract and retain a mate," John said. "You noticed Maximus' scent, didn't you? And clearly he increased your hormone levels to the point where you would want to mate with him?"

Bruce hated John's matter-of-fact tone when he was talking about a man who wanted to force himself on Claire. If Maximus showed up right now, Bruce would do more than punch him in the face. He would make the man bleed.

"I don't know what you're getting at, John," Claire said. "Sure, I noticed something was off about the guy, but I got away from him. That's all that matters, right?"

John was looking at Claire critically before he moved to stand in between her and Bruce. Claire reacted almost instantly, moving so that she still had Bruce in her line of sight.

"As I thought," John said. "You should go to the Fortress. You're still being influenced by the effects of your encounter with Maximus, and it would be safer for everyone if you were on your own for right now."

"What are you talking about?" Claire asked. "I'm fine."

Bruce didn't believe she was. She still seemed somewhat frantic, and her face was flushed.

"You may believe you are fine," John began, "but you shouldn't go near Maximus again. If you do, the consequences could be disastrous, and people you care about might be hurt."

"That's why I should be here," Claire said. "To protect people."

"You might do more harm than good," John said. "Trust me on this—it would be better if you went to the Fortress. I will retrieve you once I have dealt with Maximus."

"You're certain?" Claire asked.

"Yes," John answered.

Claire then looked at Bruce, and he could see an intense longing in her eyes. "I should stay," she uttered, not breaking eye contact and starting to move toward him.

John grabbed her wrist once more, though, stopping Claire where she stood.

"He would be safer if you left for the Fortress," John stated.

John's words seemed to shake Claire from the daze she was currently in. She looked back at John and nodded, before turning and speeding from the room.

"What was that about?" Bruce asked.

"You would rather she stay and possibly face Maximus again?"

"I don't want her anywhere near him," Bruce asserted.

"Well then," John began, "you would agree that she would be better off out of town—for both her own protection and yours."

"What do you mean?" Bruce asked.

"As I said, Maximus increased Claire's hormone levels," John explained. "From what I understand, his genetic modifications should have made his scent nearly irresistible to members of the opposite sex, and with Claire's sensitive olfactory glands, she should have been unable to pull away from him."

Bruce's fists tightened at that. He'd seen how closely Claire had wrapped herself around Maximus, and he'd hated it. It was torture, and his only relief was that he'd knocked the man back and managed to draw Claire away from him.

"Yet, Claire did pull away from Maximus," John continued. "How did she accomplish that?" he asked.

"I zip-lined across to the balcony where they were, and I helped get him off her," Bruce answered.

"As I thought," John said contemplatively. "Claire picked up on a scent that she desired more than Maximus'—that seems like the only logical explanation."

"Well, it's not that surprising," Bruce commented. "She'd probably want anyone more than a homicidal psychopath who kills women searching for one worthy to be his mate."

"No," John said. "It would take more than a simple attraction to pull her away from Maximus' hold. You and she must have a deep bond."

"If that's the case, why did you send her away?" Bruce asked. "If our bond can help her ignore Maximus, then she and I should stay together."

"That would be too dangerous for you," John replied.

"What?" Bruce asked.

"You could see what effect Maximus had on her," John explained. "He increased her need to mate, and she was practically in pain for not having fulfilled that need. I have no doubt that it was taking every ounce of restraint within her not to take you by force. Would you have wanted to have her like that?"

"Of course not," Bruce replied. He wanted her, but not because some sick alien had basically drugged her.

"And if she had hurt you in the state she's in, I believe she would have immensely regretted that," John said. "I am tasked with helping her, so I could not risk her facing that outcome."

"So what's our next move?" Bruce asked.

"Maximus now has one target to pursue, so I doubt he'll harm any other women," John replied. "He'll likely try to follow Claire's scent to places that she frequents. I'll go to those places and see if I can pick up on his trail. You should return to Gotham."

"Why?" Bruce asked, not understanding why John wouldn't want him to be a part of the search.

"Maximus likely won't be able to find Claire because she's not in Metropolis," John answered. "Where I've sent her, he should not be able to locate her. When he fails at that, he'll most likely try to start looking for you. He would've seen the bond between you and Claire. If he can remove you from the picture, then there would be one less obstacle between himself and Claire. You should head to Gotham, because if he decides to pick a fight with you, it would take him longer to find you in another city, and it would be better for you to deal with him on familiar territory."

"And you're certain Claire's safe where you sent her?" Bruce asked.

"Positive."

* * *

Chloe headed for home after her evening with Jimmy had been cut short. He'd been called in to take pictures for a breaking story. There was already another reporter on the story, so Chloe's help wasn't needed. They just needed photographs to go with the headline.

She made it inside her apartment and noticed that the lights were out. It was too early for Claire to be asleep, so Chloe figured that her friend must still be trying to track down the mystery murderer.

Chloe put her purse down and turned toward a light switch when a hand gripped her throat and pressed her against the wall.

"Now, now," a velvety voice began, "don't scream."

Chloe could see a tall, pale man through the shadows in front of her. A part of her mind wanted to kick the guy and scream as loudly as she could, but those thoughts were quickly becoming foggy. She tried to breathe in some air through her nose, and suddenly she lost all will to fight.

The man must have picked up on that. He released her throat and then ran his fingers through her hair.

"Aren't you a pretty little plaything?" he said. "I want something from you."

Unable to stop herself, Chloe tried to move closer to the stranger. She desperately wanted to press her lips to his.

"I don't want that," the man said, putting one of his fingers on top of her lips and stopping her movement. "I can tell that you are important to my beloved, so I will allow you to live. Her scent is everywhere in this dwelling, as is yours. You must know everything about her."

He removed his finger, and Chloe answered, "I do know practically everything about her."

"Good," he said. "I want to know where she might be hiding from me. I've been looking through this city with no luck."

"If she's not in Metropolis, then she might be at her home in Smallville or in Gotham—she has a friend there," Chloe replied. "If she's trying to hide, though, she might be at her Fortress. It's near the North Pole away from everything."

"Yes, those options sound promising," the man commented. "Now tell me about her weaknesses. She's very strong, and I want to know how to overpower her."

"Green kryptonite—radioactive pieces of her homeworld that ended up scattered across Smallville," Chloe said. "Whenever she's around them, she loses her strength."

" _Green_ kryptonite? Are there other forms of this material?" he asked.

"Yes," Chloe answered. "There's also red."

"And what does red do?"

"It reduces her inhibitions. Makes her more willing to do things she shouldn't," Chloe said.

"That sounds perfect," the man said, a smile forming on his lips. "Just what I need to keep my beloved. Now tell me more about this Fortress. How do I locate it?"


	23. Chapter 23

_**Author's Note:**_ _Thank you to everyone for your support of this story through your favorites, follows, and reviews. I truly appreciate it!_

 _For this chapter, I want to offer a bit of a warning. This story deals with some serious subject matter—like the material on which it is based. I am keeping this story within its "T" rating, but this chapter does broach some darker topics while staying within that rating. Please note that before going into this chapter._

 _Now, thank you for reading!_

* * *

"Miss Sullivan! Miss Sullivan!"

Chloe could hear a voice repeating her name, but she was having trouble processing what was going on. With some effort, she opened her eyes, and she could see John Jones in front of her.

Now that she was more awake, Chloe had an easier time focusing. She was on the floor of her apartment, and the back of her head was throbbing.

"John?" she said, as she moved to sit up. "What happened?"

"I was hoping that you could tell me," John replied.

She tried to think back to what had happened, but at first her memories were fuzzy.

"There was a guy here!" Chloe soon exclaimed, as the events of the night returned to her. "I got home, it was dark, and the next thing I knew some guy had his hand around my throat. And then he asked me a bunch of questions."

"What about?" John asked.

"Claire," Chloe replied. "He wanted to know where she might hide from him and what her weaknesses are."

"Did you tell him?"

"I couldn't help it," Chloe answered in disbelief. She had protected her friend's secrets for years, and now she couldn't understand how she'd given up those secrets so easily to a complete stranger.

"Do not feel guilt for this, Miss Sullivan," John said. "The man who was here earlier tonight was an alien with the ability to acquire whatever he wants—usually."

"And now he wants Claire," Chloe said. "He was calling her his beloved. What are we going to do?"

"I am already in the process of working on that," John replied. "I've sent Claire to the Fortress so that she will be out of this man's reach for the moment."

"But I told him about the Fortress," Chloe said. "And different kinds of kryptonite."

The look on John's face became grim as Chloe spoke. They both knew that this situation was serious.

"Things might be more complicated than I had originally thought," John said. "But we will take care of this. Stay here and keep the doors locked. I will be in contact with you when there are new developments."

"Claire will be okay, though, right?" Chloe asked. "You'll be able to stop this guy, won't you?"

"I will do what I can," John replied.

* * *

Claire knew that it was cold in her Fortress of Solitude, but that never bothered her. Her Kryptonian skin could handle it—even with just the flimsy dress that she had on.

She knew that Bruce had liked the dress. She'd picked up on his physical reactions to seeing her in it, and that had given her a sense of womanly pride. She hadn't done anything about it, though—she had a job to do and a bad guy to stop. It hadn't been the time or place to act on her feelings for Bruce.

Since encountering Maximus, though, something had changed. Claire wanted to run back to Bruce and give into every impulse she felt, but she knew she shouldn't. She wasn't thinking clearly, and she didn't want to end up doing something they would regret later or possibly even hurting him in her current frame of mind.

Claire needed to cool down—and the Fortress was the best place for that. It had been a few hours since she'd left Metropolis, and already her head was feeling clearer.

She didn't know what John was planning, but she knew her friend was resourceful. He would no doubt figure out a way to stop Maximus and resolve this mess. Claire just hoped he would find a solution sooner rather than later.

A light shined behind her, signaling the arrival of someone to the Fortress from the portal that existed in Smallville. Claire thought it would be John, bringing news, but she turned and realized that she was wrong.

It was Maximus.

"Hello, beloved," he said.

Claire tried to act quickly. She sped across the room and hit Maximus with enough force to send him flying backwards.

"I appreciate the fight you have in you," he said from the floor, as he turned on one side to face her. "It means our children will be great warriors."

Claire was filled with a sense of unease. She knew Maximus' scent had to be affecting her again, so she closed her eyes for a moment and focused on the one thing that seemed to help her ignore it—Bruce. With an image of him in her mind, Claire opened her eyes, balled her fists, and readied herself for the next round. She was back over to Maximus in a second, grabbing his collar before saying assertively, "I will never have your children."

"Yes, you will," Maximus replied, raising his arm to reveal that he was holding kryptonite in his hand.

The rock glowed a bright green, and Claire released Maximus before stumbling back. She tripped, ending up on the ground as Maximus regained his footing and came toward her.

"Don't struggle," he said, as Claire attempted to crawl backwards. Maximus halted her progress, straddling her and placing the kryptonite on her chest.

"I didn't want for it to be like this between us," he continued, as he used one hand to grab her wrists and hold them down above her head. "Ours was to be a romance for the ages. When I was first told about the great Kryptonians as a child, I knew that I would find my mate among your people. But then your planet was destroyed, and I felt all hope of my dream was lost."

He looked in her eyes as he added, "But then I heard about you—a survivor on a distant world, and my hope returned. And you are just as I pictured you would be—an image of Kryptonian perfection. Dark hair, blue eyes, and a supple body."

Maximus' free hand roamed along her body at that comment, caressing her curves in a way that made Claire feel sick.

"The man who told me about you was not lying when he described you," Maximus said, as he turned his attention back to her face.

"Who…who told you about me?" Claire said, trying to muster some strength, but failing.

"That doesn't matter," he replied. "I will simply have to reward him one day. In the meantime, I will make you my queen."

"You're psychotic," Claire said. "And I'll do whatever it takes to get away from you."

"In your current, blinded mindset, I believe you would," Maximus said. "You're too infatuated with that mongrel human of yours to see what I'm offering you, but perhaps this will help to make things clearer for you."

Maximus then reached into his suit pocket and retrieved some sort of chain. He opened his hand, and Claire realized that the chain was attached to a piece of red kryptonite.

"No!" Claire protested. "Don't do that."

"This will help you realize what I'm offering you," Maximus asserted. "I will have a better setting put together to hold this stone once we are on Almerac, but for now, this simple chain will suffice."

He placed the red kryptonite on her throat and then clasped the two ends of the chain together behind her neck. Claire could feel the red beginning to affect her, but it was dampened by the presence of the green. Maximus didn't want that, though.

"I believe we can do without this now," Maximus said, grabbing the green kryptonite and tossing it across the room. "Do you understand now what sort of gift I'm offering you?" he asked her.

"I understand," Claire replied, as she felt violence and anger course through her system. She leapt up, knocking Maximus off of her. She then grabbed him and shoved him against a nearby wall. "I understand what a pathetic, worthless fool you really are. You honestly thought I would bow to you? That I would let you take me to your homeworld to be your new pet? That you could break me?"

At that, she took hold of his left arm and snapped it.

"I do the breaking," she said, as she released Maximus and let him drop to the floor.

He was whimpering now, clutching his arm to his chest.

"This isn't how it was supposed to be," Maximus argued. "You were supposed to be mine."

"I'm no one's," Claire replied, before kicking Maximus repeatedly in the stomach. "And if I want to spend my time with someone, I'm not going to waste it with a blubbering child. I want a real man, and I think I know where to find one."

Claire turned and left Maximus on the floor. She felt a yearning, stronger than any she'd known before—most likely because of the Almerac boy, but she doubted Maximus could satisfy her needs. She knew who she wanted, and it was time for her to take him.

* * *

Bruce was tired of waiting. He hadn't been idle since he'd returned to Gotham. He'd been researching ways that they might be able to counter Maximus' scent and other abilities. There were creatures in nature who had similar ways of attracting mates, so Bruce thought he should start there. He had a program running on his computer to analyze the pheromones released by certain animals and what sort of supplies he would need to create an effective countermeasure.

He stood as the program ran and headed toward the balcony off his bedroom. It was bitterly cold outside, but the chill helped clear his mind. He looked out over his city and knew that there were criminals that needed to be dealt with below him, but right now, he needed to be ready to help Claire.

Bruce felt like he was being watched after a moment, though. John had warned him, so Bruce was prepared in case Maximus had shown up wanting a fight, but it wasn't Maximus who was watching him. Instead, Bruce turned to his left and saw Claire floating down from the sky towards him.

At first, Bruce thought he was hallucinating. Nothing he'd learned about Claire had suggested that that she could do what he was currently seeing.

"Claire?" he said disbelievingly as she landed in front of him. "You can fly?"

"Of course I can fly," she replied in a tone that didn't sound like her. She placed her hands on his chest underneath his jacket and let them slide up towards his neck, and Bruce could feel her warmth radiating through his shirt. "Now are you going to invite me inside, or do I have to invite myself?" she asked.

When she looked up at him, Bruce noticed two things that had changed about her in the last few hours. The first was her eyes—they were still somewhat dilated, but now they also seemed to have a strange red glow about them. It was similar to the second difference—a bright red stone that was currently around her neck. She hadn't been wearing the necklace earlier this evening, so Bruce wondered where it had come from.

"Well?" Claire said impatiently.

Bruce eventually gestured for her to enter his room. Claire replied with a devilish smirk before sauntering into the penthouse. She wasn't acting like herself, and Bruce worried that Maximus had done something to her again. He needed to know; he just wondered if she would be able to give him a straight answer in her current state.

"Claire," he began, "do you have any news on Maximus—where he is or how we can stop him?"

"I know where he is," Claire replied, walking around his room and letting her fingers glide across his furniture. "He's where I left him when I stopped him."

"What do you mean?" Bruce asked. Based on the last time she'd encountered Maximus, Bruce didn't know if she would be able to put a fight against him, let alone stop him.

"I mean he didn't have my permission to be as physically brazen as he was being, so I broke his arm and left him crying for his mother," Claire answered.

"He touched you?" Bruce asked, anger no doubt apparent in his voice. John had assured him that Maximus wouldn't find Claire—that was the only reason that Bruce had accepted the decision to allow Claire to go off on her own.

She was across the room and directly in front of him in an instant. Her hand went to his cheek, as she said, "Now that's the Bruce that I came here to find. That darkness and determination—it makes me want a taste."

Claire kissed him roughly then, with an aggression she'd never shown. This didn't feel like his Claire. He needed her to stop before they started heading down the wrong path.

"Claire," he said, pulling away from her. "Are you all right?"

"I'm better than all right," she replied. "I'm better than I've ever been before. And stop calling me Claire. Claire is a sad, simple girl, and I am nothing like that. Call me Kara."

Bruce knew that Kara was her Kryptonian name, but she'd told him before not to call her by that. Her sudden request that he use that name was just another sign that she wasn't herself.

"Claire, I think something might be wrong," Bruce said.

"Of course something's wrong," Claire said, throwing her hands up in the air and walking away from him. "I'm stuck on this backwater planet surrounded by boring idiots who don't know a good time when they see one. Now I'd hoped you might be different than the rest of them, but clearly I was mistaken."

She was suddenly back in front of him, as she added, "It's disappointing, Bruce, but I guess I'm just going to have to find some fun elsewhere. I bet Lex wouldn't be this boring. He wants every inch of me as badly as you do, and I bet he's the kind of man who takes what he wants."

Claire moved to go by Bruce and whispered in his ear, "I guess I'm going to find out."

She was taunting him—Bruce knew she was, but there was a chance that she actually intended to visit Lex Luthor in her current state, and Bruce couldn't allow that. He hoped that his Claire would forgive whatever he had to do over the next few minutes, but he figured that she would prefer his actions to whatever might happen if she went to Luthor right now.

Bruce wrapped his arm around her waist before she could pass him, and he pulled her towards him. "You're not going anywhere, _Kara_ ," he stated, placing emphasis on her name of choice.

He pressed his lips to hers and kissed her forcefully, and Claire responded in kind. They were closer to his hidden room than the bed, which worked to Bruce's advantage. He guided Claire backwards until he'd her pushed against his desk. He knew he needed to be convincing, so he knocked three computer monitors off the space and propped Claire against the edge. She willingly followed his lead, sitting against the desk and trying to draw Bruce in closer. Her leg wrapped around his hip, and she dug her heel into the back of his leg. It was pain mixed with pleasure, and if Claire were herself right now, Bruce thought he might enjoy this, but the truth was this woman wasn't his Claire.

And he needed to find a way to bring his Claire back.

She was clearly worse than she'd been during her first encounter with Maximus, so Bruce thought back to the differences he'd noticed. He wondered if the necklace was somehow contributing to the change in her behavior.

Bruce had done his homework. He knew that a red form of kryptonite existed; he just didn't know how it would affect Claire. The rock on her neck was glowing like green kryptonite did whenever it was around her, so Bruce wondered if red kryptonite might impact her psychologically rather than physically the way green did.

It seemed like the best explanation for her current behavior. Now Bruce just needed a way to change her back, and he doubted _Kara_ would be happy about him bringing back his Claire.

He had a way—a way that would no doubt upset both Kara and Claire, but he needed to try something.

Claire was now working at his belt. When the buckle put up too much of a fight, she simply ripped the belt off him.

She pulled away from his lips at that and said, "You're wearing far too many layers for what I have in mind."

"And how many layers do you have on under that dress?" he asked, knowing that if he could keep her talking, he might be able to buy more time to work out his plan.

But apparently Claire wasn't just going to sit back and chat tonight.

Suddenly, Bruce felt a whirlwind around him. For a moment, Claire was gone, but then in an instant she was back, and her fingers wove into his hair.

"Now I've got no layers on under this dress," she whispered in his ear. "But you like to play detective. Maybe you should do some investigating and find that out for yourself."

"I intend to," Bruce replied, revising his strategy.

His lips moved along her neck then as he pulled off one sleeve of his jacket. He quickly assessed the look of the chain when his eyes were at that level. It would be easy enough for him to rip the metal from her neck once all the pieces were in place.

Bruce began to nip at Claire's exposed collarbone as he seemingly moved to pull off the rest of his jacket.

He would only have one chance at this. If Claire realized he was betraying her, she would be able to move quickly enough to stop him. And it didn't seem like she would be the forgiving type at the moment.

As the jacket fell from his arm, Bruce reached his hand for the top drawer of his desk. He placed his thumb on a scanner, and the drawer opened, revealing a metal box inside. Just as Claire was pulling back as if she'd realized that something was going on, Bruce managed to open the box, and the glow of green kryptonite flooded the small room.

"What are you doing?" Claire demanded, as she no doubt began to feel the effects of the green meteor rock that Bruce brought closer to her.

"I'm bringing my Claire back," Bruce answered, as he pulled the red stone off of her neck. He threw it into the lead box and shut it, leaving the green kryptonite out in case Claire was still feeling unlike herself.

Her head bowed for a moment, and Bruce became worried. He wanted to make sure that Claire was back to normal, but he didn't want to hurt her.

"Claire?" he said, wanting to speak to her and find out if she was all right.

She then looked back up at him, and Bruce could see that the red glow was gone from her eyes.

"Bruce?" she said, staring at him as if she were trying to understand what was going on. Something appeared to click, and she seemed nervous as she started rattling off comments and questions, "I was in the Fortress…and Maximus found me…He exposed me to red…I was on red…Are you okay?"

"I'm more worried about you," Bruce replied.

"But I'm not in control of myself when I'm on red," Claire said desperately. "I could've hurt you. Did I hurt you?"

"No, you didn't," Bruce assured her. "You might've hurt Maximus, but I get the feeling he deserved a worse beating than whatever you gave him. Now—are you yourself again?"

She looked at the green kryptonite, and Bruce knew that she understood what he was asking.

"I'm me," she said, and Bruce could hear in her voice that it was his Claire speaking.

He slipped the green rock into the same box that contained the red and quickly closed the lid.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Claire asked, her hand reaching back up and her fingers gently sliding into his hair. There was a slight pull, and Bruce could tell that she was slowly drawing him nearer to her. He realized then how close they still were. Her leg was still draped around his, and while the ferocity wasn't there, it didn't change their proximity.

"Claire," he said, trying to maintain control.

"Yes, Bruce?" she replied in an alluring tone, as her lips were just inches away from his.

"You're still feeling the effects of what Maximus did to you," Bruce said.

"Probably so," Claire responded. "But that doesn't change how good you smell—I notice that all the time." Her nose went along his neck at that, and Bruce could hear her inhale deeply.

"Claire," Bruce repeated.

"I know you want me," she whispered.

"But not like this," he replied, and Claire pulled back at those words.

In an instant, she was off the desk and standing on the opposite side of the room.

"I should go," she said. "It's not easy for me to be around you right now."

"But I don't think you should be on your own," Bruce replied. "Maximus has come after you a few times now, and I'm not going to let you face him alone again. I'm not going to let him hurt you."

"I don't know if he'll want to try to hurt me again," Claire said. "I hurt him pretty badly during our last meeting."

"Good," Bruce said. He knew that Claire wasn't an advocate of violence, but in Bruce's opinion, Maximus deserved a good beating.

But now Bruce felt the need to prepare for a possible fight, in case Claire's beating wasn't enough of a deterrent to Maximus. The man had travelled across galaxies and killed multiple people just to find Claire. Would he really stop just because he'd lost a few rounds?

Bruce was also concerned that Maximus knew about the different forms of kryptonite—there was nothing to stop him from trying to use the meteor rocks on Claire again. And Bruce didn't know the extent of the red rock's effect on her. If she were exposed to it now, Bruce doubted that Kara would be happy with him.

"Claire, how close do you have to be to red kryptonite before it begins to impact you?" he asked, wondering if Maximus just running into the room with the rock would be enough to cause them trouble.

"With green, I just need to be close," Claire replied, leaning back against the doorway to the balcony. "With red, I need to have physical contact with it."

"How did Maximus get the necklace on you? He's not faster than you, is he?"

"No," Claire answered. "He just brought both green and red with him. The green slowed me down enough so that he could put the necklace on."

"And you don't have any sort of defense when you encounter green?" Bruce asked.

"It's painful, Bruce," Claire replied. "I lose my abilities, and there's not much I can do."

"You could fight through the pain," he said.

"Is that really what you think I should be trying to do?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" Bruce questioned.

"You had green kryptonite in your desk drawer, Bruce," she replied. "Are you going to tell me you didn't have it there in case you ever needed to stop me?"

He couldn't tell her that. Claire had guessed his reason correctly, but he didn't know how he could admit it to her.

"Claire…" he began, uncertain as to what he should say.

"It's okay, Bruce," she interrupted him. "I get it. I have superpowers, and if I ever did lose control, someone would need to stop me. Take tonight for instance—can you imagine what would've happened if I'd gone to Lex while I was on red?"

Bruce's fists tightened at thought. He didn't want to imagine Lex anywhere near Claire, especially not while she was acting like that.

"I shouldn't have brought that up," Claire said, apparently picking up on his anger. "The point I'm trying to make is that I understand why you have green kryptonite."

"You're not angry?" Bruce questioned, surprised that she wasn't more upset with him for this secret.

"Right now, Bruce, I don't think it's physically possible for me to be angry with you," she replied. "I think I'd probably forgive you for anything with the way I'm feeling, so if you have anything else that you're keeping from me, you may as well admit it now."

Bruce knew it was the perfect opportunity to tell her about the file he was keeping on her. She understood his reasoning for keeping kryptonite; she would understand his need to research and monitor her.

But Bruce couldn't bring himself to tell her. He needed to maintain some kind of control over the information he possessed, which meant he couldn't reveal the truth to her.

"There's nothing else I have to admit," Bruce said, hoping to end their discussion of this topic. He wanted to move back to another subject. "But I still want to find some way for you to defend yourself against green."

"Even if that means losing the one way you could beat me in a fight?"

"I think I'd still be able to find a way to beat you," he replied. "But I don't want people like Maximus or McNulty or anyone else having such an easy time of it."

"It might not work," Claire said. "Even if you teach me how to fight, that still might not be enough for me to deal with green kryptonite."

"Then we'll keep working at it until we find a way," Bruce responded.

Claire closed her eyes before shaking her head and adding, "You should stop making such appealing offers. It's making it more difficult for me to stay on my side of the room."

"You're right," Bruce said. "We should probably be trying to contact John instead. He's trying to hunt down Maximus. We should give him an update on what happened to you."

"Do you have a phone I could use?" Claire asked, and Bruce grabbed a cellphone from a nearby table. He tossed it to her, trying to keep his distance.

Claire caught the phone easily and began to dial a number. She then placed it next to her ear, but a few seconds later, she was still silent.

"He's not answering," she said.

"Give me his number," Bruce said. "I should be able to determine his location."

"He might be out of area," Claire replied. "If he went to the Fortress to track down Maximus, there's no way he'll have cell coverage."

"Why?" Bruce asked. "Where's this fortress of yours?"

"Not far from the North Pole," Claire answered.

"The North Pole?"

"Well, New Mexico seemed like too obvious a choice for me to hide my secret alien artifacts," Claire said teasingly.

"Fair enough," Bruce replied. "Maybe you should run me up there. I'll help out John, and you can run right back here."

"I should be the one helping John," Claire stated.

"But it's not safe for you to be around Maximus," Bruce said.

"And you think I'm okay with the thought of you going anywhere near him?" Claire asked. "He's stronger and faster than you, Bruce."

"Speed and strength aren't everything."

"No, they're not," Claire replied. "But if you're going to face off against Maximus, then I'm going with you."

"Then we're both staying," Bruce said. "We'll wait for John to get back in touch with us."

* * *

John had headed for Smallville as soon as he'd spoken to Chloe. Without his abilities, the portal in Smallville was the fastest way for him to reach the Fortress. He just hoped he wasn't too late.

The portal was in an underground cavern on the outskirts of the small town. As John had feared, there were signs that the portal had been used recently. The key that opened the gateway was still in the cavern, not far from the pedestal that held the keyhole.

John had one of his guns ready. He grabbed the key from the floor and used it to activate the portal. Suddenly, John found himself in a room made of giant slabs of ice, and he knew he was in the Fortress.

He heard a moan toward his right. He turned toward the noise and pointed his gun in that direction.

It wasn't Claire. Based on the look of the person, John could only assume it was Maximus. He was injured, and Claire wasn't in sight. John needed to know what had happened.

"Where is Kara Jor-El?" John demanded, standing over Maximus with his gun aimed at the man.

"She left," Maximus replied shakily, and John could tell that it was hurting the man to speak.

"Where did she go?" John asked.

"I don't know. She ran off," Maximus said, sounding defeated. "It wasn't supposed to be like this."

"And who made you think it was supposed to be any different?" John asked. "Who told you she was here?"

"A wise being who knew so much about the universe—he told me where I could find a Kryptonian female," Maximus replied.

"Who was this wise being? Did he have a name?"

"Yes," Maximus answered. "His name was Brainiac. He told me I would be the greatest king of Almerac if could I bring her back with me and make her my queen. But now I've failed."

John was surprised. He knew Brainiac—an artificial intelligence that had developed a nasty habit of trying to destroy worlds. John and Claire had faced—and had supposedly defeated—Brainiac before, but apparently they'd been wrong. No doubt now the mechanical creature wanted vengeance against Claire. That had to be why Brainiac had encouraged Maximus to come here.

Maximus crawled back to a wall then and used the structure to try to help himself stand. John didn't stop him. He could tell that Maximus' movement was impaired. If the man tried anything, John would be able to stop him.

"I am not a failure, though," Maximus said with renewed determination. "I am the ruler of Almerac, and if that foolish girl cannot see the worth of the gift I offered her, then that is her failing. I will not trifle with the likes of her again."

Maximus reached into his jacket and removed a metallic, rectangular object. He pressed a button on the device, and John knew what it was in an instant. A wormhole opened up next to them, and Maximus headed toward it.

The device was a Mother Box, which could create a portal between worlds, and Maximus appeared to be using it to return home. John wanted Maximus gone, but he didn't think that Maximus should have a device that powerful. He could return to Earth whenever he wanted to with a Mother Box, and John couldn't have that.

John aimed his gun for Maximus' wrist and took the shot. The bullet hit its mark, and the device fell from Maximus' hand. Maximus tried to pick up the box, but John dove at him, knocking him toward the wormhole with his shoulder.

"Don't try it again," John said sternly, still pointing the gun at Maximus. "Leave now, and I recommend that you never come back."

Maximus looked like he was considering his options, but he must have seen that he didn't have a choice. He turned toward the portal and fled back to his homeworld, before the portal closed behind him.

John retrieved the Mother Box from the icy floor. It was slightly damaged, but for the most part, it seemed intact. John put the device in his pocket. He didn't know when the necessity for interstellar travel might arise, but it wouldn't hurt to have the Mother Box available in that situation.

He went to the portal back to Smallville after that. Maximus was gone, and John needed to let Bruce and Claire know.

* * *

Bruce watched as Claire answered his cellphone, which was now ringing in her hand. She was still on her side of the room, and he was staying on his.

"He is?" Claire said into the line, before turning to face Bruce. "It's John. He says that Maximus is gone."

"Good," Bruce replied. "Thank John for me."

"Bruce thanks you for the news," Claire said, with the phone raised once again. "Okay," she continued. "You can tell me about it when I get back to Metropolis. Goodbye for now."

"You're headed back?" Bruce asked her.

"Yes," Claire answered, setting the phone down on his nightstand. "John needs to tell me about something. I'm guessing Maximus' departure didn't go as smoothly as I'd hoped, and John and I'll need to take care of something else now."

She walked out onto the balcony then, and Bruce followed her.

"You'll keep me posted on whatever that something else is, won't you?" Bruce asked.

"You'll probably keep yourself posted on it, even if I don't," she replied with a smile, as she turned back to face him.

"And you're still not angry with me?"

"I think everything that's been affecting me today is wearing off," she replied, making Bruce somewhat nervous. "But lucky for you, I'm still not angry with you."

Bruce once again found himself holding back about the file. He knew he should tell her, but he couldn't form the words. He'd buried secrets his entire life—his anger toward the man that killed his parents, his need to bring justice back to his city, and now this with Claire.

He just couldn't tell her—especially when telling her the truth might cost him the relationship that was developing between them. And Bruce knew he needed to be working on that relationship.

"If you're not angry with me right now, it might be the right time for me to ask you out on our first date," Bruce said.

"Right," Claire said, suddenly seeming shy. She looked down and tucked her hair behind her ear as she added, "I guess we need to be working on the public image of us being a couple if we want people to believe that cover story."

"I don't care about the cover story," Bruce replied. "We'll make that all work out somehow, but right now, I just want to try to have a normal date with you."

"You think the two of us could really manage a normal date?"

"If we can manage a completely normal date by any normal person's standards, then that would probably be the best outcome," Bruce answered. "But if we can only manage a normal date by our somewhat abnormal standards, then I would be happy with that too."

"Really?" Claire replied with a slight laugh. "Mr. Tall, Dark, and Broody would actually be happy? Is that even possible?"

Bruce knew he could tell her the truth about this—a truth he'd been feeling for the last few weeks. "You make me happy," he said seriously.

"Bruce…I…" Claire began, but Bruce stopped her.

"Say yes," he pleaded.

"You know, I usually have a problem with following orders," Claire said. "But in this case, I guess I'll make an exception." She paused before the one word he'd been waiting for passed through her lips, "Yes."

He restrained himself from giving into the urge to pull her into his arms then and there and kiss her the way he longed to, but it wasn't the right time for that—not with everything she'd been through tonight. Instead, he took her hand in his and brought it to his lips, gently kissing the back of it.

"Tomorrow night at seven?" he asked, his eyes going up to hers as he begrudgingly released her hand.

"That should be fine," she replied. "Here or somewhere else?"

"We can meet here, and then go from there," Bruce answered. "We can go out if you'd like. Do dinner and dancing."

"Well, I do love dancing, although Claire Kent is supposed to be bad at it."

"Perhaps her billionaire boyfriend has been giving her lessons?" Bruce suggested.

"I like that idea," Claire replied with a smile. "Dancing it is then."

"Perfect. I'll see you at seven then?"

"It sounds like a date," Claire said, before moving towards him and lightly kissing his cheek. "Goodnight, Bruce."

"Goodnight, Claire," he replied, just before he watched her speed off the side of the building. He'd noticed she hadn't flown away. He was going to have to find out about that—whether flight was just a side effect of red or if she could do that at other times as well.

But for now, Bruce turned back toward the penthouse and put his hands in his pockets to ward off the chill in the air. In his right pocket, he felt something unexpected—an unfamiliar piece of fabric. He pulled the material out and saw that it looked like a small piece of black lace. Unfolding it, Bruce suddenly understood what Claire had meant earlier when she'd said she didn't have any layers on under her dress.

Bruce sighed in frustration—it had been a difficult night for him. He wanted Claire desperately, but he wanted more than just a physical relationship with her. He wanted it all—her body, her warmth, her smile, and her annoyingly optimistic outlook on nearly everything.

With how complicated their lives were, though, it was going to take time and effort, and Bruce knew that.

In the meantime, Bruce headed inside for the one thing he really needed after a night like tonight—a cold shower.


	24. Chapter 24

_**Author's Note:**_ _This chapter was delayed, because there have just been too many distractions of late, including_ Daredevil _Season 2, the_ Supergirl _/_ Flash _crossover, and_ Batman v. Superman _. I loved the first two—although they weren't perfect, but I have to say I was a bit disappointed with BVS. It had its moments, but it could've been better. All three tempted me to write other fanfictions, though, but now I'm back to this story. I appreciate everyone's favorites, follows, and reviews during the interim._

 _I've said it before, but I want to bring it up again that I do not own any of the characters or plots included in this story. I mention a song in this chapter, and I do not own the rights to that either. I'm just borrowing it for the sake of this story._

 _Now, as always, thank you for reading!_

* * *

Claire found herself tapping her foot against the floor as she waited impatiently for the elevator to reach Bruce's penthouse.

She knew it was nerves, but she just didn't know why she felt so nervous about tonight.

Claire was already closer to Bruce than most people in her life, and he knew more about her than any other man that she'd dated ever had.

And they'd already crossed so many boundaries. Going on a date shouldn't seem like that important of a step in their relationship—especially not after everything that had happened between them last night.

But Claire couldn't help but feel anxious.

Chloe had tried to help her earlier in the day—convincing her to go out shopping for a new dress during their lunch break. Claire didn't know if the long, dark red gown she was now wearing was too fancy for whatever Bruce had planned. The dress was sleeveless with a high neck, an exposed back, and a slit in the skirt that ran up to her thigh. Bruce had said dinner and dancing, but Claire wondered if this dress was the right choice.

Chloe had talked her into the purchase, though. She'd told Claire that it would only take her a moment to run back to Metropolis and change her clothes if the dress wasn't right for the date.

Claire pulled her black wrap more tightly around her shoulders as the elevator neared its destination. She would know soon enough whether her clothing was appropriate for the evening—and more importantly, whether she had any real reason to be nervous about her first date with Bruce.

The doors opened to reveal Alfred standing in the foyer, waiting to greet her.

"Hi, Al," Claire said, as she stepped into the penthouse.

"Good evening, Miss Kent," he replied. "Master Wayne will be downstairs shortly."

"I'm already here, Alfred!" Bruce called from directly above them. Claire could hear him hustling down the staircase. When he came into view, Claire saw that Bruce was putting on a black jacket that went with the tuxedo he was wearing. She knew then that she'd picked the right dress for tonight.

Her opinion was confirmed when Bruce caught sight of her. He paused where he stood and looked her up and down.

"You look beautiful," Bruce said, and she could tell that he meant it.

"You don't look so bad yourself," she replied with a smile, suddenly feeling less nervous.

"Are you ready to head out?" Bruce asked.

"I guess as ready as I'll ever be," Claire answered.

Bruce grabbed a car key before turning back toward Alfred. "Have fun on your night off, Alfred," he said to his butler.

"Just because you're gone doesn't mean I take the night off, sir," Alfred replied. "Otherwise, I'd have every night off, now wouldn't I?"

"I suppose so, but still, I hope you enjoy your night," Bruce said, as he walked up to Claire and offered her his arm.

Claire slid her hand around Bruce's forearm and followed him toward the elevator.

"Have a lovely time, you two," Alfred called after them.

"Thanks, Al," Claire replied once they were inside the elevator. "Have a nice night," she added.

"Likewise, Miss Kent," Alfred said, before the doors shut and the elevator began to descend.

"So where are we headed?" Claire asked.

"A new restaurant is having its grand opening across town," Bruce replied. "They've hired a well known chef to run their kitchen. Plus, they supposedly have an impressive dance floor, and a live band will be playing tonight."

"Well, that sounds like a good choice," Claire said.

"I hope so," he said. "Just to forewarn you, though—the press will no doubt be there."

"So my picture might end up in the paper?" Claire asked. "I guess it's a good thing I got a new dress," she added sarcastically.

"I'm sorry, Claire," Bruce said seriously. "I don't want to be adding complications to your life."

"Don't apologize, Bruce," Claire replied. "We both agreed about having a public relationship. I knew that would involve having the media spotlight on us occasionally."

"I don't want a public relationship just to have a cover story," he said. "I want more than that."

"So do I," Claire said earnestly.

Bruce suddenly moved toward the elevator control panel and hit the emergency stop button.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Are you still feeling any effects from what you went through yesterday?" Bruce asked, his eyes fixed on hers.

"No," she answered.

"Good," Bruce replied, before wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her toward him for a deep and passionate kiss.

"I've been waiting too many hours to do that," he said, once they broke apart for air.

"You really are too good at that," Claire said, unable to deny how much she enjoyed being in Bruce's arms.

"I'm glad to hear that," Bruce said. "I wouldn't want you looking to someone else to satisfy your needs."

"You really were bothered yesterday, weren't you? About that threat I made to go to Lex?" Claire questioned.

Bruce didn't answer; instead, he went back to the panel, and the elevator soon began moving again.

"Bruce?" Claire said, wondering if he was going to answer her.

"I was bothered by a number of things yesterday," Bruce said. "The threat about Lex was one of them."

"But you know it was just a threat, don't you?" Claire asked. "I wasn't going to go to Lex."

"You and Lex do have a past, though," Bruce said.

"Yes, we do have a past," Claire said. "A past that was never anything more than a stupid schoolgirl crush on my part and a crazy obsession on his. A past that never involved making out in my barn or me being able to trust Lex with my secrets or anything else that is remotely close to what you and I have shared. On top of that, Lex tried to have my father killed. So are you really going to be bothered by whatever past Lex and I had?"

"I guess not," Bruce replied.

"So what else bothered you about yesterday?" she asked, as the doors opened to Bruce's garage level.

"Well, I can't say that I was pleased about the ruler of an alien planet showing up wanting to make you his queen," Bruce said. "Has that ever happened before?" he asked, as he opened the passenger side door to one of his fancy cars.

"No," Claire answered, entering the vehicle. When Bruce was in the car as well, she continued, "I won't lie to you, Bruce. I've had problems with other aliens before. Nothing exactly like last night, but still, I've known other people from other worlds who've wanted to cause trouble."

"But you've been able to stop them?" Bruce asked, as he put the car in drive.

"Yes—sometimes on my own, but sometimes with help," she said.

"You mean John?" he questioned, as they exited the garage.

"John and others," Claire began. "My cousin Kal-El—he was sent to Earth as well. His ship crashed and was stuck underwater for years, but a dam broke, and he was freed. After that, he was able to help me with being a Kryptonian on Earth."

"You haven't mentioned him," Bruce said. "Where is he now?"

"He's…he's gone," Claire said with difficulty. Losing a surviving member of her biological family had been one of the darkest moments of her life, and Bruce seemed to pick up on that.

"I'm sorry," he said earnestly, offering her his hand.

Claire put her hand in his, and their fingers intertwined. He brought her hand up to his lips then and kissed the back of it. Bruce had done this gesture before, but that didn't make it any less meaningful this time.

"Thank you," she said.

They were silent for a time, as Bruce drove them through the streets of Gotham. The quiet inside the car did little to negate the noise outside of it. Claire could still pick up on honking horns, screeching brakes, and other sounds common on urban roadways. Soon, she heard noises that reminded her of her day job—camera lenses snapping and loud questions being asked.

The sounds were coming from a block ahead of them, and Claire realized that they must be nearing the restaurant.

Bruce confirmed her thought as he said, "We're almost there. I know you don't like to follow orders, but maybe you should let me take the lead on this one."

"Well, I suppose this is your world we're entering," Claire replied. "So I guess I'm willing to follow your lead, but that means that I get to call all the shots on any future extraterrestrial encounters."

"There's only one extraterrestrial that I want to encounter," Bruce said slyly, as they pulled up to the restaurant.

"You're incorrigible," Claire replied.

"Kiss me and maybe then I'll behave," Bruce said.

Claire could hear every camera flashing behind them and the young valet waiting for them to vacate the vehicle so that he could park it. Claire wasn't accustomed to audiences, but this was just part of Bruce Wayne's life. She wanted to be part of that life, so she was just going to have to learn how to accept the rest of it.

She leaned forward, and Bruce mirrored her movement until their lips met. His fingers went to the side of her neck, encouraging her to move closer to him while somehow not disturbing her carefully pinned hair bun.

The valet then coughed loudly enough for Bruce to hear it, and they quickly broke apart.

"Stay there," Bruce whispered. "I'll get the door."

Bruce exited the vehicle and handed the keys to the valet. A doorman was approaching Claire's side, but Bruce waved him off. Bruce opened Claire's door and assisted her out of the vehicle, and Claire could tell that most eyes were watching them. Bruce's arm wrapped around her waist, and his hand rested upon her hip, making it clear that she was with him.

Bruce then looked at the sea of paparazzi leading up to the restaurant entrance, and he finally seemed to spot the person he was looking for.

"That's Vicky Vale," Bruce said in a voice loud enough for Claire to hear. "She's a hopeless romantic. She'll eat up the story that we're going to tell her."

"Bruce!" Vicky called, as the other reporters were also shouting his name, waving for him to come over.

Bruce led Claire toward Vicky, though, and the tall, blonde reporter seemed thrilled about that.

"Lovely to see you tonight, Ms. Vale," Bruce said. His voice was somewhere between his playboy persona and the tone he took with Claire normally. It seemed as if he were trying to sound genuine.

"Lovely to see you too, Bruce. Now who is your mystery date tonight?" Vicky asked.

"This is my girlfriend Claire Kent," he replied.

"Girlfriend?" Vicky repeated, sounding surprised. "That seems to be a serious term to be using for someone we've never seen you with before."

"Well, Vicky, just because you haven't seen something, that doesn't mean it isn't happening," Bruce said. His eyes then went to Claire's, as he added, "And I couldn't be more serious."

"Really?" Vicky questioned. "Well, you need to tell my viewers more. I'm sure they'll be eager to know about the woman who's managed to win over the elusive Bruce Wayne. So how did you two meet?"

"Fate," Bruce answered. "Claire's the daughter of Jonathan Kent—our future congressman if voters make the right choice in the election this year. I was impressed by what Mr. Kent had to say at a Wayne Foundation event weeks ago, and I decided to support him. Then, I was fortunate enough to meet Mr. Kent's daughter, and my life hasn't been the same since."

"Wow," Vicky replied. "Miss Kent, I have to know more about you. What kind of woman can win that sort of praise from the prince of Gotham?"

Claire wasn't used to being on this side of interview questions, but she decided to listen to Bruce for once and follow his lead. He was taking the truth and spinning it to answer Vicky's questions without revealing their secrets. It was a fine line to walk, but Claire was familiar with making up stories to fit a given situation.

"I'm actually…not too unlike you, Vicky," Claire said, still trying to sound like her shy, everyday self.

"Do you mean you're just one of the common people?" Vicky asked.

"Well, there's that," Claire began, "but I…uh…also meant that I'm a reporter. I work for the Daily Planet in Metropolis."

"Really? Well, if I'd known Bruce had a thing for reporters, then I would've tried harder to catch his eye," Vicky commented, batting her eyes at Bruce.

"Sorry, Vicky, but only one reporter has ever caught my eye," Bruce said, pulling Claire closer to him. "And she's turned me into a one-woman sort of man."

"Are we really supposed to believe that, Mr. Wayne?" a male reporter questioned. He was a bulky man with dirty blonde hair and a hard face. "I've uncovered that Lex Luthor is really running for office in hopes of awarding government contracts to Luthorcorp. Sure, he won't be able to reap the benefits from them while he's in office, but once he's out of office, he'll go back to an even more profitable business—all because of the political moves he's making now. Are you going to tell us that you aren't hoping for the same perks for Wayne Enterprises through your connection to Jonathan Kent?"

"I'm not Lex Luthor, and Wayne Enterprises isn't Luthorcorp. My company won't be benefitting no matter how the election turns out," Bruce replied. "The only benefit I'm getting right now is that a kind and beautiful woman is willing to spend her time with an undeserving man like me. And I'm more grateful for that than I can say."

Bruce wasn't lying—Claire could tell that. She already knew he wouldn't try to achieve some sort of political gain through her father, but she was caught off guard by the rest of what Bruce had to say. She wasn't used to someone praising Claire Kent.

"Now if you'll excuse us," Bruce began, "our table's waiting."

At that, Claire could feel Bruce's hand applying pressure, encouraging her to follow him toward the door.

"That wasn't as bad as I thought it might be," Claire said.

"Well, let's hope the rest of the evening goes as smoothly," Bruce replied.

Once they were inside the restaurant, a hostess led them to a table for two. It was in a prominent location, overlooking the dance floor. Bruce pulled out the closest chair and waited for Claire to take a seat before moving around the table to his own chair. The hostess then gave them menus and left them by themselves.

"So far, this feels like a normal date," Claire commented. "Apart from the cameras and the reporters and, well, getting the nicest table in the place without having to beg for it."

"I guess it's normal for the everyday billionaire side of my personality," Bruce replied with a smile, and Claire couldn't help but smile back.

They carried on their conversation with ease. Their table was far enough away from others that they didn't have to worry about being overheard, and Claire could tell when a waiter or waitress was drawing too close. It felt like a perfect evening, but Claire soon realized that it all might be too good to be true.

Beyond the crowd of people within the restaurant, Claire could hear someone entering the building—someone with a female voice that Claire recognized.

Bruce noticed the sudden pause in the conversation and asked, "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing," Claire replied, but she could tell that Bruce didn't believe her. After a moment, she continued, "It's just your ex-girlfriend."

Claire could hear Rachel with a man approaching the hostess. Rachel's date indicated that his name was Harvey Dent, and the two were then led to a table across the room. And Claire could tell that Bruce had seen them.

"This is in no way awkward," Claire lied, taking a sip from her wine glass.

"Actually, it's not," Bruce said.

"How do you figure that?" Claire asked. "I mean—she was your childhood sweetheart."

"But I'm not a child anymore," Bruce replied earnestly. He stood up and moved around the table toward Claire. He then offered her his hand, before saying, "And now I want to dance with the woman I'm really interested in—if she'll have me."

Claire took his hand and let Bruce lead her down to the dance floor. One song ended, and then the band began to play "Unchained Melody." As the lyrics discussed hungering for a lover's touch, one of Bruce's hands wrapped around her waist, and his fingers lightly caressed her exposed back. He guided Claire among the other dancers after that, and they seemed to move closer to one another with every spin.

Despite the moment they were sharing, Claire couldn't help but hear Rachel's laughter, and she couldn't avoid noticing the way Bruce's eyes looked toward the sound. It was brief, but Claire couldn't ignore it.

"Do you want to know who she's with?" Claire asked.

"She's with the acting District Attorney—Harvey Dent," Bruce replied.

"So you already knew that?"

"Yes, I already knew who was appointed to the District Attorney position while we wait for the election," Bruce said.

"That wasn't exactly what I was asking," Claire said.

"Careful," Bruce began. "That's starting to sound like jealousy."

"Do I have reason to be jealous?" Claire questioned.

"No," Bruce replied.

"Are you sure about that?"

"Could I lie to you?" he asked. "You can hear my pulse—that must let you be your own lie detector."

"You might not lie to me," Claire said. "But you can still hide things from me. You were keeping kryptonite in your desk drawer without telling me."

"You know why I had that," Bruce replied defensively.

"I do," she responded. "But it's still a sign that we might not be telling each other everything."

"Do you want me to tell you everything?" Bruce asked, with something dark in his tone.

"Yes," Claire replied.

"The man in the corner over there, the one whose date looks like she could be his granddaughter," Bruce said, nodding toward a corner before spinning them so Claire could see. Claire spotted the man easily. He was overweight with slicked-back gray hair. "His name's Richard Daniel. He's a rather wealthy businessman, and a member of the board of Gotham City Bank—the very same bank that Falcone used when he was running the drug trade in Gotham."

Claire wasn't expecting this sort of answer from Bruce, but she listened intently, wondering where he was going with his comments.

"Daniel has helped to finance some of the worst crimes in this city over the last thirty years," Bruce continued. "But he's been careful. There isn't enough hard evidence to put him away, and the last DA thought that nothing could bring the man to justice short of a confession."

"I'm surprised a certain vigilante hasn't tried to obtain that confession," Claire said.

"That wouldn't be good enough," Bruce replied. "His lawyers would have it thrown out. A coerced confession would be inadmissible in court, so I've been looking for another way to get to him. And I've been paying attention to the DA's office. I think Mr. Dent might have the nerve needed to handle the job, so that's why I know who he is. I don't care who he's dating; I just want to make sure he's going to be able to help this city."

Claire knew it was the truth, and she felt foolish about being jealous of Rachel. Bruce had meant everything he'd said tonight about his feelings for her, so Claire decided to try to put their date back on track. She could tell that he was more Batman at the moment than Bruce Wayne, and luckily, she knew just what to say to the fellow vigilante.

"So how many other bad guys are in this room?" she asked.

"A handful," Bruce answered. "Like Daniel, they're the ones that aren't easy targets for the Batman to bring down."

"Could the Blur help out with any of them?" Claire asked. Her tone was lighter, and Bruce seemed to pick up on that. They smiled at one another before Bruce offered an answer.

"I do love watching you work," he said. "But it's not necessary for these guys. The Batman will be able to handle it."

"Only if you're sure," Claire replied, before leaning closer to his ear. "Because I love watching you work too," she whispered.

The song was nearing its end, and the lyrics had the singer asking God to speed another's love to him.

Bruce's eyes met Claire's as she pulled back from his ear. Bruce didn't let her go far. His lips met hers, and Claire couldn't believe it. They were standing in the middle of the dance floor within a packed restaurant, and normally Claire would run away from anything that might draw attention to herself, but right now, she wasn't running. She felt safe in Bruce's arms. She'd gone through her life having to hide from nearly everyone, but she didn't have to be like that with Bruce. He knew every side of her, and he was still willing to stand beside her through practically anything.

Claire knew how dangerous her life could be. She'd seen her family and friends threatened by her enemies, but she didn't have as much to worry about with Bruce. He could take care of himself, and no doubt he would help her to protect anyone else that might be in trouble.

Claire now understood why she'd been so nervous before. It wasn't about going on her first date with Bruce; it was the fact that they were already so far along in this relationship. None of her relationships had ever worked out in the past; something about her had always brought an end to them.

And now she once again was faced with a relationship that she was afraid to lose.

Claire pulled away, breaking the kiss, and she could see a look of concern on Bruce's face. It seemed like he was going to question her, but she was saved when a man in a fancy blue suit showed up on the stage and took the microphone from the lead singer. It was apparent that he was the MC.

"Welcome all," the MC began, "I hope you're enjoying the evening. Give our band here a hand. They've been great entertainment so far."

Everyone applauded the musicians. As the room quieted, the MC started speaking again.

"Now we have a special treat for you all tonight," he said. "A master of magic is gracing us with his presence to thrill and amaze us."

"You didn't say we'd see a magician tonight," Claire said to Bruce quietly.

"I didn't know we would," Bruce replied, and Claire noticed that his brow was furrowed slightly.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Before Bruce could answer, the MC continued, "Without further ado, I give you—Zatara!"

Bruce tensed at the name, and its owner walked swiftly onto the stage.

Zatara appeared to be in his sixties, with white streaks in his otherwise black hair and a white curled mustache above his lip. He seemed sharp and polished. His black jacket had long coattails, he wore a top hat, and he carried a baton.

Bruce wasn't giving her answers; he was too focused on watching Zatara's movements. So Claire turned her senses outward to see what she could pick up.

Looking more closely at the MC, Claire noticed something off about his eyes. There was a cloudiness to them, almost as if the MC wasn't really able to see through them. She also listened for any noises backstage. Claire grew concerned when she realized that the stagehands didn't sound like normal, conscious workers—moving around with purpose or talking to one another; instead, they sounded like they were just sleepwalking.

"Something's going on," Claire told Bruce.

"I don't doubt it," Bruce replied sternly.

"Who is this guy?" she asked, recognizing that Bruce knew more than he was saying.

"He's someone I used to know," he answered. "The real question is what he's doing here."

"Based on what I can hear, I don't think it's anything good," Claire commented.

"But the Zatara I know—he's not a villain," Bruce said.

"Then what's going on?" she asked.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Zatara announced, halting their conversation. "I am here tonight in search of one thing—the truth. And I want for you all to join me in my quest for it."

"What truth do you think he's looking for?" Claire whispered to Bruce.

"I don't know," he replied.

Claire listened again to the people backstage. She didn't like leaving them trapped in whatever state that Zatara had put them in, but she trusted Bruce's instinct. If he didn't think that Zatara was here to cause harm, then she would give the magician another minute. If things became worse in any way, though, Claire would act—no matter what Bruce thought of this man.

"I need a volunteer from the audience," Zatara said loudly. He then waved his baton in front of the crowd and shouted, "Reetnulov sevlesruoy, srail!"

A number of people left their tables and the dance floor to move closer to the stage, as if they wanted to participate in whatever Zatara was doing. Claire also felt a strange urge to volunteer, but she managed to restrain herself. When she held back though, the frames of her glasses seemed to burn, almost as if they were becoming heated. Claire wasn't used to pain; she wasn't even used to discomfort, so she almost reached up to remove her glasses and ease the burning sensation, but suddenly the pain stopped.

The unusual feeling ended as soon as a man hurried up onto the stage to volunteer.

"What was that?" Claire asked Bruce quietly.

"It was magic—real magic," he answered. He sounded angry, so Claire turned to see Bruce's face. The look there matched his tone.

Claire knew magic existed. She'd seen remarkable and mystical things firsthand. She just wondered why Zatara was using magic in this restaurant tonight—and what exactly Bruce knew about what was going on here.

Claire decided to question Bruce later, as her focus shifted back to Zatara and the man that had joined him on stage. She realized then that the volunteer was Richard Daniel.

"Thank you for volunteering," Zatara said to Daniel. "Now, I would like for you to help me in my quest for the truth. Tell the audience who you are."

"My name is Richard Daniel," the man said. He didn't seem to be in the same dazed state as the MC, but Claire didn't think that Daniel was in complete control of his actions.

"Are you a good person, Mr. Daniel, or a bad person?" Zatara asked, his voice beginning to sound sinister.

"I'm a bad person," Daniel admitted readily.

"Well, we're off to a good start," Zatara said. "We all appreciate your honesty, Mr. Daniel. I know honesty isn't an easy thing, but I hope to make it easier." Zatara then turned toward the audience and added, "I hope to make it easier for all of you."

"We should stop this," Claire said, unable to ignore the feeling that something was wrong here.

"Daniel's a criminal," Bruce replied. "Let's see where Zatara is going with this."

"Timda ruoy sterces!" Zatara shouted.

At those words, Daniel turned to face the crowd. He then began speaking, confessing crimes he'd assisted others with and a few he'd committed himself, and he said he kept records of it all in a ledger in his office. The details he provided made it clear that he was guilty.

Claire could hear someone making a phone call across the room. She listened and realized it was Harvey Dent, calling the police to have them come in and arrest Daniel. Rachel was standing beside Harvey, and she also had her phone out. She wasn't making a call, though; instead, Claire could tell that Rachel was using the phone to record Daniel's confession.

Once he finished speaking, Daniel blinked several times and staggered backward. It appeared as if the effects of Zatara's magic were wearing off, and Daniel seemed to realize that something had gone wrong.

"What I just said," Daniel began, "I didn't mean any of it. That was all just part of this clown's magic trick. It wasn't real."

Two cops who'd been helping manage the crowds outside walked up to the stage with Harvey, as Daniel was trying to deny everything.

"Nice try, Daniel," Harvey said. "But I already have men headed down to your office, and once they find that ledger you mentioned, you're going away for a long time." Harvey turned to the officers and added, "Arrest him."

Everyone was focused on the scene with Daniel, but Claire noticed that Zatara was slipping back behind the curtain. She still didn't feel entirely right. Her glasses were bothering her again and so was her hair bun, and she thought that the magician had to be the cause. The people weren't moving backstage either, so Claire knew Zatara had to be convinced to undo what he'd done to everyone here.

"I'm going to speak with Zatara before he gets away," Claire said to Bruce.

Bruce caught hold of her hand and said, "We'll both go to speak with him. Like I said, I know him."

He then led her toward a side door near the stage.

"How do you know where you're going?" Claire asked. Her x-ray vision always helped her to maneuver through new places, but she wondered how Bruce managed to navigate his way around without abilities.

"I studied the blueprints once I chose this place for our date," Bruce answered.

"Why?"

"I like to be prepared for any outcome," he explained.

Claire could hear someone approaching them, but it didn't sound like Zatara's stride.

"Wait a second," Claire said. "Someone's coming."

"You shouldn't be here," a woman said, as she emerged from the shadows. She was shorter than Claire, with dark hair and tan skin, and she wore tight black pants and a black jacket. "But you always did enjoy getting into trouble, didn't you, sweetheart?" she added, looking straight at Bruce.

"Sweetheart?" Claire questioned, wondering who this woman was and how she knew Bruce.

"Oh, forgive me," she said. "Bruce and I already know each other so well that I forgot that I should introduce myself. My name is Zatanna." The woman took a deep bow at that before looking back up, directly at Claire. "And you are?"

"I'm Claire Kent," she replied, but she felt a sharp pain in her skull when she spoke. Claire couldn't help but grimace at the sensation.

"Are you sure about that?" Zatanna asked with a slight smile on her face.

"Zatanna, what's going on here?" Bruce asked. "What was your father after?"

Claire knew that Zatara had to be Zatanna's father. Their names and appearances were somewhat similar, and they were both backstage in this restaurant tonight.

"He got part of what he was after," Zatanna said. "He wanted to see that bastard Daniel go away for life after the trouble he's caused. And you know Father's spells. He'll probably get more than just Daniel's confession before this one is done."

"Zatanna!" the older magician called from somewhere further backstage.

"Time for me to run," Zatanna commented.

"Wait!" Claire said. "All the stagehands, the MC—you have to undo what was done to them."

"Well, aren't you sweet?" Zatanna said. "I can see why you like this girl, Bruce. And don't worry, _Claire_ , all the innocent, honest people here will be fine."

Claire didn't like Zatanna's flippant tone any more than she liked any of the strange events that had happened this evening. She was about to stop the magician's daughter and make sure that no one left until everyone's safety was confirmed, but suddenly, a strong, purple cloud of smoke filled the air around them.

Claire couldn't see through the fog, and by the time it cleared, she could tell that both Zatara and Zatanna were gone.

"Are you okay?" Bruce asked, a concerned look on his face.

"Not entirely," Claire answered. "I mean—our first date did just get interrupted by two of your exes and a crazed magician."

She didn't mean to be so blunt with her response, but for some reason, she couldn't hold back those thoughts.

"This wasn't how I planned tonight to go," Bruce said.

"Me neither," Claire added. She let her senses turn back toward the other people in the building. She could hear that stagehands were once again sounding normal, and the police were dragging Daniel out the front door. "We should probably leave before anyone notices us back here," she said.

Bruce gripped her hand tightly and led her back toward the door to the restaurant. They went to their table, and Claire couldn't help but hear the conversations throughout the room.

" _Is there something you want to tell me?_ " a woman asked the man she was with. They appeared to be a couple in their forties, and based on the rings they were wearing, Claire assumed that they were married.

" _Yes,_ " the man replied, sounding as if it pained him to say the word. " _I've been sleeping with my secretary._ "

The confession was followed by a swift slap, right before Claire saw the woman storm away from the table.

"I think something is still going on," Claire said to Bruce, realizing that the husband was the second person tonight to admit the truth since Zatara had cast his spell and that she was still feeling discomfort along her disguise.

"So I won't be able to convince you to have dessert tonight?" Bruce asked, but Claire wasn't shutting off her abilities.

She could hear the police speaking outside. They were telling Harvey that Lt. Gordon would most likely want to pull Batman into the investigation of Daniel. Whatever Daniel had in his ledger, it might lead to other criminals, and they might need the Batman's help to bring them all to justice.

"The police are planning on calling Batman in to help investigate Daniel," Claire said. "I get the feeling that you'll be getting a signal from them soon enough."

At that, Bruce caught the attention of their waitress and asked for their check. After paying, they made their way to the front exit, and the valet went to retrieve Bruce's car.

"Bruce?" a voice said from nearby the entranceway.

Bruce turned, but Claire already knew it was Rachel.

"Rachel," Bruce replied. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Yeah, fancy that," Rachel said. "Imagine you showing up at the restaurant that my date and I were trying out."

"My date and I were trying this place out too," Bruce said, before wrapping his arm around Claire's waist and drawing her in closer. "Rachel, I'd like you to meet Claire Kent. Claire, this is Rachel Dawes—an old friend of mine."

"Miss Dawes," Claire said, offering her hand to the other woman. "I've heard such good things about you."

"You'll have to forgive me, Miss Kent," Rachel replied, as she shook Claire's hand. "I haven't really heard anything about you."

"That's all right," Claire said. "I'm not from around here, and I try to keep a low profile most of the time."

"Well, I doubt being Bruce Wayne's date will help you do that," Rachel said. She smiled at Bruce before adding, "He's a complicated sort of person."

"Oh, I'm aware of that," Claire replied. "But I don't mind complications."

"Rachel!" Harvey Dent called from behind her. He walked up beside her, casually kissing her on the cheek before saying, "I'm sorry to cut our night short, but I've got to head down to the station to make sure that everything goes okay with Daniel's processing."

"That's not a problem, Harvey," Rachel replied.

"You're welcome to come with me," he said quickly. "I just get the feeling that this is going to be the boring part, especially if Daniel wants to backtrack now."

"I'm sure you've got this covered without me," Rachel said with a smile.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I want to be without you," Harvey said, as he smiled back at her unreservedly. He leaned in to kiss her, but another voice interrupted him.

"Your car, Mr. Wayne," the valet said.

"Harvey," Rachel said, as if she suddenly remembered that she and Harvey were not alone. "This is my old friend Bruce Wayne."

Harvey turned to face them and then offered his hand to Bruce. "The famous Bruce Wayne," he began. "Rachel's told me everything about you."

"I certainly hope not," Bruce replied, as he shook Harvey's hand. "And this is Claire Kent," Bruce added.

"Wait, Jonathan Kent's daughter?" Harvey asked, as he offered his hand to her.

"That's me," Claire answered, trying to ignore the slight sting of pain she felt at the words.

"You're a reporter, if I'm not mistaken," Harvey noted.

"Yes, I am. I work for the Daily Planet in Metropolis," she said.

"Well, Miss Kent, I just want to tell you—off the record—that I hope your father kicks Luthor's ass in the upcoming election," Harvey said.

"Thank you, Mr. Dent," Claire replied. "I'm hoping for the same thing myself, and good luck with your own election."

"Thanks," Harvey said.

Claire then noticed a light shining in the sky in her peripheral vision. She turned to see the bat signal blazing. Bruce and Rachel were saying some sort of pleasantries, but Claire knew Bruce needed to be elsewhere.

At the next pause in the conversation, she interrupted, "Well, Mr. Dent, Bruce and I don't want to hold you up any longer. It sounded like justice needs to be dispensed tonight."

"Yes, it does," Harvey agreed. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Kent." He smiled warmly at her. He then turned to Bruce as if he were going to say something similar, but no kind words formed. Harvey just shook Bruce's hand again and said, "Until next time, Wayne."

Bruce and Claire then went toward the car. Bruce tipped the valet generously before helping Claire into the passenger seat.

As soon as Bruce started driving, Claire let her hair down and took off her glasses. She felt better almost instantly. It made her wonder if the discomfort was just in her mind or if something else was going on.

They pulled into Bruce's parking garage faster than Claire had expected.

Bruce turned the car off and then shifted to face her before asking, "Do you want to come up?"

"Yes," Claire answered without hesitation, surprising herself. She wasn't one to jump into things, but the truth had escaped her lips quickly. She knew, though, that the Batman was needed right now, so she added, "But your alter ego has business to attend to tonight."

"I still want you to come upstairs with me," Bruce said. "Even if it's just for a few minutes."

"We don't always get what we want," Claire said.

"Can I get one thing that I want?" he asked.

"What's that?" she asked, leaning closer to him.

Bruce's hand slid across her cheek then up into her hair. "I want to kiss you," he whispered.

"I guess you can get that," she said just before their lips connected. Bruce was insanely good at this, but suddenly Claire heard sirens a few blocks away. There was a fire, and people were still trapped inside the building.

Claire pulled away from Bruce, and when he was about to question her, she put her finger on his lips and swiftly explained the situation.

"You left one of your Blur suits upstairs," he said.

"I'll go change into that," Claire said. "Then I'll help the people in the burning building, and you can go take care of being Batman."

"I would like to try this again sometime," Bruce said.

"Sometime when we don't run into your exes and some crazy magician doesn't show up to make criminals confess," Claire said.

"Yes, preferably without all that," he replied.

Claire kissed Bruce deeply one last time before she moved to open the door.

As she turned away, Claire added, "Or maybe next time we should run into a few of my exes."

"Then next time I'll end up hurting people," he said sternly. "And not as the Batman."

"Goodnight, Bruce," Claire said, smiling before she left the car.

"Goodnight, Claire," he replied before she sped away.

* * *

The next morning, Claire tried to prepare for work quickly. She put her hair up and then donned her glasses. She thought she noticed a strange feeling like she had experienced last night, but she tried to ignore it.

Claire was on her own in the apartment; it looked like Chloe had spent the night at Jimmy's, so Claire knew she needed to go to work to tell her friend about what had happened last night. She used her super-speed and was soon at her desk, and Chloe was already there waiting for her.

"So you had a busy night last night," Chloe commented.

"You mean about the fire?" Claire asked.

"No," Chloe answered. "I mean about this." Chloe handed Claire a copy of the gossip pages. Her and Bruce's arrival at the restaurant occupied about an eighth of the page.

"Oh," Claire said.

"Oh? That's it? You have to give me details, Claire," Chloe demanded.

"Well, it was nice—for the most part," she answered.

"Okay, so what were the nice parts and what were the not-so-nice parts?" Chloe asked.

"Bruce is a good dancer and a good kisser, but I'm thinking next time we should avoid going anywhere that he might encounter people he knows," Claire replied.

"Does this have to do with the assistant DA he used to date?" Chloe asked as she skimmed through the other pictures. Chloe found the image she was looking for and added, "She was there last night, wasn't she?"

"Yes, she was, and so was another ex-girlfriend of his," Claire said.

"Geez, what did you do?"

"We watched a magician cast a spell on a criminal to make him confess his crimes to everyone," Claire answered. "It was an interesting night."

Claire suddenly heard hard heels connecting loudly with the floor.

"Cat's coming this way," she said quietly to Chloe. Both of them moved to their seats and focused on their monitors to appear busy.

"Kent!" Cat said, harshly. "You have a lot of nerve. The way you've acted—you should be ashamed of yourself."

"What do you mean?" Claire asked.

"You threw yourself at Bruce Wayne. Don't you have any self respect?"

"Yes, I do," Claire said. "And Bruce was the one who asked me out, so I don't see what the issue is."

"The issue is that you don't deserve what you've got," Cat replied. "And one day Bruce is going to see the mistake he made with you."

"Come on, Cat," Chloe interrupted. "Your problem is that Bruce Wayne asked Claire out and not you. Complaining about it isn't going to change anything, so you should just get over it."

"Why should I?" Cat demanded, before turning her attention back to Claire. "I mean—what's so special about you? What have you got that I don't have that would make Bruce attracted to you?"

"I'm the Blur," Claire said—unable to stop herself. She couldn't believe what she'd just admitted, and Chloe must have picked up on her current bewilderment.

"Stop messing with her, Claire," Chloe said quickly. "Cat's having a bad enough day as it is; you don't need to tease her about her silly anti-vigilante movement too."

"That wasn't a funny joke, Kent, if that's really what it was," Cat said, her eyes narrowing as she glared at Claire.

"Of course, that's what it was," Chloe said, when Claire still found herself unable to give some fake explanation. "Claire just has a quirky sense of humor. Maybe that's what Bruce likes about her."

"Whatever," Cat replied. "You can keep your stupid sense of humor, Kent, and your drunken fool of a billionaire. He was probably completely wasted; that had to have been the reason why he went out with you."

Claire again didn't say anything, and Cat seemed bored from the lack of response. She turned on her heel and left Claire and Chloe alone.

"What was that?" Chloe demanded.

"I have no idea," Claire replied. "For some reason, I couldn't lie to her."

"Try to lie about something else," Chloe suggested.

Claire tried to form words, but she found that she couldn't vocalize anything that wasn't true.

"The magician," Claire said. "He cast a spell to make Richard Daniel confess to his crime, but I also heard a husband last night confess to his wife about having an affair. What if it affected all of us who were at the restaurant?"

It made sense. Her glasses and hair bun were part of her disguise—ways that she lied about her identity. Perhaps the spell was the reason she was feeling pain right now.

Claire was filled with concern. She wasn't a villain, but lies were part of her life. She needed them in order to protect her friends and family—and so did Bruce.

"I need to call Bruce," she said, grabbing her phone before heading up to the roof.

She called him, and Bruce picked up on the second ring.

"Bruce, I think we might have a problem."


End file.
